Love and Marriage........... and Sports.....

Love and Marriage, Love and Marriage,

Go together like a horse and carriage,

This I tell ya brother, you can't have one without the other.

It all starts with Pee Wee football... Little League... U12 Soccer.  Girls?  Where?  Who cares?  Oh sure, I see Susie over there on the sidelines with her pom poms..  She lives down the street, younger sister of Huey, our starting center.  The only reason I know her is, 'cause if we gotta odd number in any kinda game we're playing in the cul-de-sac, she fills in.  Really, she ain't got too bad'a arm, dare I say, "For a .." NO, don't you dare say it.  K, won't, but, you know.

Love and Marriage, Love and Marriage,

It's an institute you can't disparage,

Ask the local gentry, and they will say is element'ry.

Well.. . not really Elementary, scroll to that paragraph up thar, girls ain't been discovered yet, ya hear? I mean (Please,  PLEASE don't start sentences with "I mean", drives me batty).. I mean, now that we're on the JV and playing on Monday nights... well... mebbe we KINDA peek at girls every now and then, but hey, SPORTS be #1. Say, I'm gonna get my haircut like Chuck.  I want some jeans like Tommy, he looks cool. I seen Julie staring at his butt.. I want that too.  OH YEAH COACH, I'm paying attention, I know, I know, I did a down-and-out when I shoulda done a down-and out and-up, my bad, never happen again... gee whiz, I never noticed she's only three lockers away from me.

Try, try, try to separate them,

It's an illusion.

Try, try, try and you will only come

to this conclusion.

Varsity baby.  Hell to the yeah. Friday night lights.  I be somebody now.  Think she'll notice?  My voice is getting deeper.  I ain't afeared to sing the songs on the radio now when we drive around. Well, except that AC DC dude... He sounds like he never got outta 9th grade, jiminy, thunderstruck.  Carla, ya wanna go the the bowling alley and split a 300 burger and fries?

"And now, the starting lineups... at guard, #22......"  That be me (the HS guy).. Jenny, we've been datin' like three weeks now.  What if I was ta giveya my class ring and you could spin some yarn around it, wear it, and who knows, mebbe love me til the end of time?  Let me think on it......

And now..  College.  Decisions, decisions.  All these friends, classmates, sitting in the bleachers.. Infronta me an MU hat, KU and K-State hats.  And then, I know Becky, Amy and Sally are watching too, better get me a hat for each onea them.  I mean, I've done had pizza with all of 'em. I reach for the Sally hat... pick it up.. nah, put it back down over here.. then.. Becky.. should I try it on?  Nope, I'm going with the Amy hat..  Yessir, if the hat fits, wear it! (Amy runs up, hugs the HS guy, it's a deal, he ain't even gotta do a prom-vite, fairy tale ending, happily ever after.)

WHAT?  You're decommitting? Yeah, I know.. we had 'this thing'..  but then.. we aren't officially engaged or anything.. .I feel really lucky, being showered with all this attention.  I'm leaning this-a-way now, sorry....  Ahhh chihuahua.......

Love and Marriage, Love and Marriage,

Go together like a horse and carriage,

Dad was told by mother

You can't have one

You can't have none

You can't have one without the other.

All better.  Pride is hard to swallow but it will go down..... Saweeeeeet!  I'm back in the saddle again! Parties with bonfires.. s'mores..  studying together, NoDoz all-nighters.  Coffee at Denny's before exams.  This is getting comfy, baby yawn.

HUH?..., whadda ya mean you're entering the transfer portal?  Yeah, I'm sorry.... it's just a feeling I get.  In the backa my mind I always wondered "what if?".. you know, back in our hometown, and I figured I'd better go home while I've still got some eligibility left.  (I wonder deep down, was it.. NIL money.. like, 'back home' is upper-middle class, a better life?  I get it... damnit darnit.)

TO THE PRO's BABY!  Made it!  Sure, only the 12th round, but hey.. we gots enough bucks now for a 4 bedroom, 3 bath house!  The years, they pile up.  Wins, losses. Some years better than others. Occasional trips to the IR. Two rugrats. Kiddygarten. PTA meetings. Road trips.  Big game comin' up, we'll play catch later, promise.

Whaddaya mean it's over?  We gotta contract ain'twe?

Coach?  My outright release?  REALLY?

Dayum. I detect some latent hostility in this blog.

Eh mebbe. Trust me, I see the good.  I see them two happily ever after that live at Green Acres.  Them two that have navigated the paths around that one lake, bowl with hedge apples for goin' on fitty years. More power to 'em, and CONGRATS.

Sadly, everything ends.  Some ever so beautifully, witness Jimmy and Ros. Just look at Patrick and Brittany, way back when to the yarn was wrapped on that class ring, now, two gems, Sterling and Bronze.  Perfect. That's the way, uh huh uh huh, I like it.  Some end yucky. Ne'er the same. New towns, new schools. Mixed families. Inlaws, outlaws. This Christmas with this family, Thanksgiving with that family. Love, I think, is forever.  Sleeping,  living arrangements, not so much.

Op-ed. Victor, this is a blog, be for real.  Well, OK, but Google tells me an Op-ed is "a short column that represents the strong opinion on an issue of relevance to a targeted audience."  You mean like Cupid bow and arrow targets?  Eh, I dunno, kinda I guess.

Mebbe I didn't get enough sleep.  Color me a grumpy old man.  Mebbe I just don't like change.  Sports are different now.  What usedta be "I can't wait for our American Legion Ballgame Friday night.. hey, it's football season, hand me them shoulder pads.. Swish, basketball Jones is next."............. is now:

127 baseball games a year. Gotta play just one sport.  Mom, where we playin' today?  Pack lunch and dinner, we've got five games today. No soup, or football, for you.

Then, ya get to college. The coach leaves the next year, what's-a-college has better lockerrooms, facilities, NIL, all maybe fancy for I ain't playin' enough, I'm outta here. Ain't no penalty, I can play at State this upcoming year.

Marriage. Some, not all. All too often, transfer portal, decommitment. NIL (as in 'nil, no money' happens.) Be eligible right away though.  Yes, but what about the kids.. their schools.. where they live.. Setting an example for them?

Sure, it takes two to tango.  Play catch.  I think 'give up' happens all too easily.  

I think I'll sit on the sidelines from here on out.  But... but... but.. (starting a sentence with but is so aggravating, burns my butt so to speak.)  MAN, you really are grumpy!  Hey, you've got some eligibility left. Besides that, you'll now never getta use that infamous pickup line.  Yeah? Which?  You know, you walkup to the lady, say "You look just like my 6th wife." Aghast, she replies "Goodness gracias man, how many times you been married?"   "Five."

Nah, I'm don e.  But, but, but.. er, I mean (new sentence).. You've still got your Covid year of eligibility left?

I DO find comfort the vast majority stay four years (or, a lifetime). Sacrifice, togetherness, counseling (if needed, happens). Kids go to the same schools. Games are won and lost, always cheered though (Root root root for the 'home' team). Life is never perfect, but, it's perfect for us all.

Love and Marriage, Love and Marriage,

Go together like a horse and carriage,

Somewhere amongst these dadgum almost 3,000 blogs, I know I've toldya I should be rich.  Me, with hella NIL money.  Back in the dinosaur days, family before me owned the biggest buggy-making outfit West of the Mississippi.  Then......... they invented the dadgum car.

Baby you can drive my car.  Wanna play catch? Me and Al played high school football.  You still here Peg?

Love, Victurd

Pong.......

I feel an obligation to the four of you who come here and read. I do, I do, I reawwy do.

Is it possible to "toss and turn" when one is awake? It's 4:40am. I've been staring at this blank screen for well over an hour for a topic for all four to enjoy. You know, like a Town Topic, which, is actually the name of a burger joint in Kansas City, a good one, Chief's Head Coach Andy Reid proclaims "Has the best burgers in town."  Ain't never had one, dunno.  You?

First thought was BITE.  As in bite me, or the like. Or news, like the old adage about dog biting man ain't news, man biting dog is. I Googled that, you would not believe all the stories of people actually biting dogs. Don't believe?  Bite me, Google for your own self!

I guess the bite came from a story on ABC.  Dude went into tattoo shop, took his girlfriend.  Wanted her to take a bite into his arm, enough to make teeth marks, then, tattoo guy could ink in her bite, be it a perfect bite, an overbite or an underbite. So, gf, tat guy obliged. Hopefully, tat dude didn't overcharge, or, was under experienced.

Bite the bullet.  Bite one's fingernails. Bite one's tongue. Bite someone's head off. Bite the hand that feeds you.  Nah, next topic, tyvm.

Breaking news.  I don't really watch Fox (go ahead, judge if you like, which, kinda circles back to bite me!).. What I can tell you, is, CNN always has 'breaking news'.  As does the local news, so, Fox prolly does as well I'm guessing. Long ago, hearing breaking news made ya sit on the edge of your chair, pay great attention.  Nope. Not any more.  The sky has done fallen on that.

I do like words.  The breaking news made me think of break. Break the ice. Break even. Break up. Break away. Breaking bad. (Speakinowhich, did you see the NATIONAL breaking news of the dude who was towing a mobile home, not a motor home, but, a mobile home.. cops tried pulling him over..  he ran.. sped off, car chase, er, car/mobile home chase.. he, made a break for it so to speak.  Finally, took a quick left turn off the highway (Trucks towing mobile homes should not make quick turns.) Uh huh, wrecked.  Cops nabbed him.  Anyways, that national news was around Excelsior Springs, which, is like 7 miles from here.

See what I mean about pong?

Then, break, broke, broken. It's been so long since I did that in school I hadta Google whatintheheck do you call it when you do that.  Present and past tense, knew that, but broken is past participle.  Sorry, forgot.  I have been alla them.  Break, broke, broken. You?

Then, I giggled because I go to local Beetlejuice Facebook site, ie, "somebody help me", ('Liberty Area - Together We're Stronger') and think about all the misspelled posts I've seen, such as, "I need to get my breaks fixed, suggestions on where to go?" and I laugh and laugh, and then I remind myself "You idiot, you didn't even remember past participle." Victor, gimme a brake on the self-talk wouldya?  Bite me.

Then, ABC news replayed the video of the lady biting her boyfriend's arm, tattoo dude filling it in with ink.  So, I thought, "I know, I'll Google tattoos gone bad."  There's hunnerds of em.

No regerts

My mom is my angle.

"It's is my life" Jon Bovi

(BIG ONE ON FOREARM) "Don't let the past make your dicisions for today."

Only God Can Judge Me (which, ain't funny, but, the "J" was fancified font, looked more like an F.

Across the chest, like, could read all if wearing a wife beater:   LEDGENDS LIVE ON

Time to move on Victor..........  OK

So, to kill time (ie, take a 'brake') I did Wordle.  It was a food I abhor, hate, nope, not for me.

Pong.

Which (food I hate) reminded me of my most recent gf, her sister, and her sister's boyfriend. They're glued to Channel fitty-two, which, in KC is the Food Channel. I got nuttin' agin' their love of food, "I'll try anything" is/was their take. They love cooking, ingredients, recipes, temp settings, spices, herbs, all.  Nomme. You've seen them lists on FB.  List a hunnerd foods, check the ones you don't like.  They're usually somewhere zero to three.  I'm always somewhere around 87 of those things I won't eat.

They would, seriously, interrogate me, 3 agin' one, and, pretty much make fun of me for my picky habits. They would fork a (enter disgusting food here), shove it toward my face and try to make me try it.  Nuh uh.  They were SO intent, as intent, or moreso, than I was in defiance of No Way Jose..or, Rhonda, Lisa, Bill..  OOPs, slipped.  Anyways, one time I'd had enough.  Was time for a brake.  So I bit 'em.  Forgive me Father, I bit the hands trying to feed me. All three of 'em.  Left marks.  Broke skin. No regerts. My dicision. It's is my life. Go ahead, Fudge me.

Finally, as I stared forever and ever at this rabbit in a snowstorm (blank white page), I thought about staring.  I can be guilty of same I guess. I have friends, loved ones that get all bent outta shape when someone stares at them.  Not me. I don't mind, but, if it goes on and on, then sometimes I'll purposely (pretend) pick my nose.  If that don't get 'em to stop staring, then I'll (pretend) pick it again. Then, give my finger a taste test after I do.

Somehow, I kinda feel my readership (all four ofya) might be cut in two after this blog. Sorry, mostly, kinda. Go ahead, take a brake, I don't really blameya.,

Me, I think I'll go try that burger at Town Topic.  Then mebbe to a tat shop. I've never had the courage, but, I've always had one in mind ifn's I ever did get the courage.

Love,Victurd.   (VICTOR!  YOU CAN'T DO THAT!  Do what? You can't get up and walk out on us like you did to those kind folks that simply wanted you to expand your pallette, horizon, life. You GOTTA tell us that tattoo you've "always had one in mind."  What?  What is/was it?)

Itty bitty letters, somewhere, anywhere really, on my body. My goal is/has always been to have fun, at least try to draw a chuckle. Might as well go down thataway too, thus, the only tat I ever thought about getting is "Morticians suck."

yaD drawkcaB

National Backward Day is January 31st of each and every year. It's so hot off the press, there ain't even no Wiki about it. Actually though, a couple of ladies dreamed it up in January 29, 1961 whilst they were milking cows, thinking of arts and crafts of all things.  Sound like udder nonsense to me, but, that 's when it happened. Word spread, townsfolk liked it, they made up rules, celebrated two days later.

So, you do stuff backwards. Schools have backward day now. Stuff like, have dinner for breakfast and vice versa later. Go out the back door to start the day.  Wear your clothes backwards, inside out mebbe (I unwittingly celebrated this one day, in a crowd of a hunnerd people, and some chicky tapped me on shoulder and said "Victor, your shirt is inside out." Geez.)

Twiddle your pinkies insteada your thumbs. 

You say yes, I say no. You say stop and I say go, go go.. Oh, no! You say Goodbye and I say hello.. .hello hello.  (ie, say Goodbye, or, answer phone Goodbye.)  You'd never have to shout "REPRESENTATIVE!" or be put on hold when you call the cable company, you could start out right away with that person you can't understand.

Instead of coming unglued when you're upset, get glued. Peel a banana from the bottom.  Play a record backwards, you know, like finding out Paul is dead, but, in actuality, he's still here, only a couple of years younger than Ringo.

Write your name backwards.  It's said, Leonardo da Vinci did this. He'd look in the mirror, write. They say he did so, so people wouldn't steal his ideas.  Maybe he could write backwards long enough to lend his buddy Van Gogh an ear, ie, "Don't do that."

We adults can participate too.  Like, maybe read a book backwards.  Take 50 Shades for example.. .You could start on the last page first. You know, kinda like, start out a pervert, then, you'd be naive when you finish.  You could go to bed with your honey of however many damn years, then presto, you'd be on your honeymoon again. (Careful, our hearts ain't what they usedta be.)

Back to the Future.  Mirth from Earth.  Jimmy Piersall on the basepaths.. Michael Jackson on the stage. No penguins though.  Them poor suckers physically can't walk backwards.

They wouldn't haveta go rescue space capsules outta the ocean, they'd automatically come back to the launch pad. Screw the casino, we could all go to the laundromat and win every time! Yoke wouldn't be allover the King's Men's hands with Humpty Dumpty, all kindsa possibilities!

The poor little lambs who had lost their way, could be baa baa back in the barn. Bedpost Doublemint gum would have twice the flavor.  Boomerangs would never not come back. No one would show up for gender reveals though. It'd be a rerun. (Side note. I love to ask couples "How'd you meet?" Was in the sauna the other day, asked.. "We met at a gender reveal." Do you think they really did, or, were they talking that they..  well, you know.)

GPS might be kinda tricky.  Them 4 judges on The Voice would be hella confused. Would yeast rise or droop? A backflip be a flip back?  We could scroll back far enough to where our Chief's wide receivers could actually catch.  Forget that 4-putt, we're back at the teebox.

Hair could grow on bald folks.  You know, like Chia. Ear hairs would shrink. We men could run, get our 32" belt back outta the drawer.  BMI attainment would no longer be fruitless, hopeless.

I see your red door and I want it painted der.

We could all stand on our heads. (Better call 911 first though). We could hiccup, then drink beer.

"Why back in my day, I walked to school in the snow two miles, downhill, both ways."  Never again fear getting out of a ski liftchair.  The Tilt-A-Whirl would Whirl-A-Tilt.  Hackers would never make it past the Ring doorbell.

The guy I ride to the golf course with (and BLESS him for always picking me up)..well, we could ALWAYS then, be the first ones there.

There would no longer be a need for Dentists in Arkansas. Dogs would become puppies, cats - kitties.  Recent HS grads would have to flip their tassels back and do it all over again.  Dave Wottle would be back at the starting line. Tyreek Hill in the huddle.  Gaylord Perry would get spit allover him when the back came into his hand.

Annoying children could be put back in until later.  Just imagine all the possibilities.

Blurted, hurtful words would be unsaid.  We'd come out from under the bus. Divorce would never happen.  People wouldn't, couldn't live on their phones in restaurants, at ballgames, WHILE DRIVING.

The twelve drummers drumming would be FIRST! Take that, ya damn partridge!  Harry never woulda met Sally. Cher would have to sing "Where are you babe?"  George Washington could have a belly ache from eating cherries.

We could start work making time and a half.  TGIF would become DIF (damnit, it's Friday.)

Dorothy and Toto would be home.  The Scarecrow in Mensa. Tin Man could donate blood. The Lion would be an MMA fighter.

Blog pages would be, could be, empty.

I'll get back to you on that one.

drutciV evoL

From the corner barstool... What's love got to do, got to do with it......

In the 'who cares' department, another same ole same ole evening.  Asleep way too early. Back awake at 11pm.  Breakfast. Uh huh, breakfast.  Plunged back to bed, but.. not for long, coffee brewing.  Insteada Victor Schultze, me thinks my name should be Abby Normal..  but.. it is who I is. Part of the lyrics of the song of the fraternity I was in mentions something about 'my collars and cuffs' always being in a state of disarray. It's a me it's a me it's a me ole blog readers. 

Blank blog staring at me.  First thought, don't make it about yourself.  Damnit darnit, strike one. 

Then, somehow the name Dean Smith crossed my brain. So, of course, Wiki.  Born 1931 in Emporia, KS, both parents were teachers.  In fact, dad coached the Emporia High Spartans to the State Championship in 1934. That team had the very first African American in Kansas tournament history. I liked that. Apparently Dean learned too as well.

In a rather large nutshell, Dean went to, played at KU (Victor, don't make this about you.. I know, but that's MU's ARCH rival, so not too much ink here, sorry, kinda, not.) Anyways, played for Phog Allen (rings a bell) who had played for the dadgum guy that invented basketball. (Borrowed dadgum from Roy Williams, sorry Roy, kinda)...Dean majored in Communcation.  Fitting. He did that, for a lifetime.

Coaching pit stops included KU, the Air Force Academy, and finally assistant coach at North Carolina for three years.  Head coach fired for major recruiting scandal. Chancellor offered Dean head job, Dean accepted, agreeing to the stipulation "wins and losses don't matter as much as running a clean program and representing the university well."  NC de-emphasized basketball, cutting the schedule to only 17 games, they finished 8-9 (the ONLY losing season Coach Smith would have), lost to Wake Forest, returned home after the game to find he was hung in effigy on campus.

His coaching style was calm, innovative, VERY successful, and full of love. He went on to (at time of retirement) hold the record for most wins, 17 ACC titles, 11 Final Fours, 2 National Championships, 25 NBA first round picks, 25+ former players coached on the NCAA level, many, in the NBA. He 'invented' huddling during a free throw (communication), having the guy who just scored a bucket point to the guy who passed him the ball (communication), raising a fist if you need a breather during the game (communcation)... much.

96.6% of his players graduated with a college degree. In his will he gave each and every player he'd ever coached $200 "to go have a nice meal on Coach Smith." He recruited the first African American to play at NC, helped an African American grad student purchase a home in an all white neighborhood, pushed for equal treatment for African Americans at local businesses. UConn coach Jim Calhoun, on Dean's passing, said "Dean's influence, however, went far beyond basketball coaching. His work with desegregation and women's rights showed what an equally incredible person he was. What he means to the people of North Carolina is immeasurable."

Michael Jordan, hey, I've hearda him, on Dean's passing "Other than my parents, no one had a bigger influence on my life than Coach Smith," Jordan said in a statement. "He was more than a coach -- he was my mentor, my teacher, my second father. Coach was always there for me whenever I needed him and I loved him for it. In teaching me the game of basketball, he taught me about life. 

Bottomline, love.

Then, Tina's song went to my brain. I'm a simpleton. I listen to the beat mainly, the lyrics not so much. Turns out, this song is about carnal escapade(s) with no emotional attachment, ie, love.  Tina hated it. Didn't wanna do it. I think we all know of the years she was abused in her relationship. Anyways, she finally consented.

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too longa blog Victor, stop. Sorry, strike two.

Sorry, can't.  My brain keeps coming back to the word Love.  Love's got a lot to do, a lot to do with our lives.

Some find it (relationship-wise), blessed forever and ever.  The best. Some find it, yum, like a mylar balloon, all shiny and upright, then, derailment happens, up, up and away goes that beautiful that beautiful balloon, up. up and away. Hey, it happened. It was in the grasp. Counts! And, thankful for. Some never find relationship love. Could be by choice, happenstance, whatever.. that said:

Suffice, that there be ALL KINDS OF LOVE.  Familiarity. That's the kinda love (platonic) one develops for someone, at a moment in time (varying lengths of time) where there's simply that feel good, quick, loving smile the next time ya see 'em.  Yum.

Family love.  Oh sure, we know there are exceptions, but, family, WHAT BETTER? Speakinowhich (VICTOR! DON'T LECTURE!), bite me. I've seen WAAAAAAAY TOO MANY families prosper, go on and on, yet, fear ever ever winging that L word........until it's too late. Then, they live with the R word (regret) forever and ever.  Don't do dat.  Let it all hang out, SAY IT, SAY IT, SAY IT, it really ain't hard and it feels perty damn good. Scratch that, it feels REALLY damn good.

Love of children.  Pets. Art. Sports. Lakes rivers oceans water. Travel. Staycations. Work (hey, it's possible!) Coworkers (Hey, it's possible!) Bosses (Hey, it's possible!) The Seasons: Winter, Spring, Summer or Fall, all you gotta do is call, text, write, go see, smile, hug, love, love, love.

Love of chocolate, Chili Chees Fritos, Lays potato chips (Betya can't eat just one), Beer (betya can't drink just one. You are prolly right) Laying on sheets that were dried on the clothesline, a bargain, a new outfit, new shoes, nice car, camping, fishing, golf, bunco, a little league game, a 2nd grade vocal concert, Valentine's Day, Easter, Halloween, Thanksgiving, the 83 shopping days of Christmas. Christmas, birds, as in ornithophile (lover of birds) or, birder for short.  And.. a partridge in a pear tree. Forgot to mention oranges, mulberries, strawberries, kiwi, apples, yada.

There is so damn much stuff to love......

What's love got to do, got to do with it (life).

Everything pretty much.

I even love corner barstools.  I write too damn much, but I really ain't conversational.

BRB, I've decided to go love the day.  That's hard for us all sometimes. Why not though, ya know?

WAIT!  I forgot Baseball.  Baseball Ray.  Too late, strike three, you're out(ta here).

Love, Victurd

Putting the Y in Yummy.........

"It's not that bad, Vic."

I was at a bar. NO VICTOR!  YOU?!!!

Funny haha, but yes, yes I was.  There is a young lady, server if you will, that I love.  No, no, no, not that kinda love - although she is a pretty lady.  It's just that she is always on her game.  Always friendly, happy, upbeat - no matter. No matter.

No matter if it's a hunnerd degrees out, her hair is pinned up so she won't be so hot, but, sweat drips anyways after she makes 962 trips back and forth throughout the sultry night.

No matter if 'tis freezing out. Or, surely that time she had a splitting headache and only got 3 hours of sleep.  Maybe found out a beloved relative had gone into hospice.  Could be that her cousin was in a car wreck, thankfully fine, but now, forced to seek a car he/she can't really afford.

Maybe a customer had a bad day, said something ugly the first time she approached. Maybe she heard (for the 4,323rd time) from one a little tipsy "did you even put any vodka in this drink?" Maybe customers told her it was too hot... too cold... can you turn the juke box up, down, can I get the Texas Tech game on that third tv there.  Did you even put our food order in?

And then there was the time her BFF found out her hubby was cheating on her, and she was there, shared, loved during the devastation.  Maybe she had the beginnings of the flu, better take a Covid test. The ankle she'd sprung last summer done sprung again.

That maybe she was wearing the last clean change of clothes she had available and she must do laundry when she gets off work at 3am. After she warms her car up and scrapes the snow, ice from it.

It don't matter.  She puts the Y in yummy - as in life.

I have no idea if any of the above has happened to her - but, it's the kinda stuff that happens to all of us ain't it?

She could.......... call in sick.  Go home, turn the lights off. Set her phone on 'do not disturb'. No social media, no returned texts.  Snap back to the customers "I don't conrol the heat... cold.. kitchen cook. I've got SIX customers I need to wait on, but you, YOU want me to stop and find the damn Texas-whatever game?.... or, mebbe, "I put the same gosh darn amount of Vodka EACH AND EVERY TIME in drinks."

She could share with her coworkers........."My back hurts.. today is my anniversary, I don't wanna be here.... that lady/man sitting at table 23 is an ass... is it Friday yet?"

But........

She doesn't.

She puts the Y in Yummy. Always friendly, happy, upbeat - no matter. No matter.

I always tease her a bit... after watching her make 42 trips to and fro I'll say "When you get off break can I get another one?"  Her response is always the same.  A big ole' yummy smile.

So....... one day I finally asked her..  "Are you on drugs?  You're ALWAYS happy."

"It's not that bad, Vic."

Damnit darnit. I hate (LOVE) when young people are role models for us old farts. Or, role models for anyone for that matter.  It matters to her. To be the best, enjoy life at it's best, which, is a hunnerd percent of the time.

If you've ever been to The Landing Eatery and Pub in Liberty, MO, it's for certain you know exactly who I'm referring to.  Thankfully, there are folks like that allover.  Wherever you live. Ya seen 'em, I've seen 'em.  At the Piggly Wiggly.. that one guy/gal greeting us as we walk into Wally.. the cashier that's been on his/her feet for over four hours at Caseys... that aunt/uncle sitting over there at the family reunion.  That little guy on the tee ball team.  The third base coach.  The one that always drives that red golf cart. Nice, good people are everywhere.

I (maybe we) have GOT to remember, "It's not that bad, Vic (or enter your name here)."

Love, Victurd

WHY YOU LITTLE......................!!!!!

Next to "DOH!", and then, "The BOY DID IT!", my third favorite Homer Simpson 'saying' is "WHY YOU LTTLE!"... usually followed by him strangling Bart (hey, it's a cartoon) after he'd insulted Homer, or, had gotten into trouble.

Doak Walker.

Price of tea in China?

OK. I was sitting with ten or so buddies watching MU versus Arkansas in football last night. The Tigers, hooray hoorah Mizzou Mizzou, are really pretty darn good this year (10-2).. While sure, I might be a tad biased, the announcers too were praising Mizzou enroute to their 48-14 woodshed whooping of the Hogs. (What a night for a Hog roast.) <-- Sorry Nubert, I stole that from you.

So.............. several of their (MU) 'skill players' are up for National Awards given to the very best player in the Country at their specific position. These player of the year awards are named after some famous player at that position from years ago. Names like, Dick Butkus/Linebacker award.. Davey O'Brien/Quarterback, Fred Biletnikoff/Receiver... and..  Doak Walker/Running back.

The age range of us ten or so guys gathered watching the game..... 60 to 71 (the 71 being me.) So, as these announcers ran thru naming who on Mizzou was up for the specific awards,.. it came to MU's wunnerful running back who has been nominated for the Doak Walker Award.

"Bart Simpson" (my funny ha ha buddy 'Moody' who is only one year younger than I) stared purposely, slowly and completely around the table... his eyes finally came to me.. "Vic", inferring I'm really really old. "Tell us about Doak Walker"... which is akin to asking me "Was Babe Ruth a better hitter or pitcher",, or, "Show me how Bob Cousy shot free throws", or, "What did dinosaur dung really look like?"

WHY YOU LITTLE!  I got up, ran over, strangled Moody, cops came, arrested me. Well, not really. In giving right back to his smartassedness, I said "Doak's dad was an ever better player."

Victor?  Where you going with this?

I'm going to Wiki.  Or Google.  It's about all I do nowadays.  But first, one more quickie about my friend Moody.  I love ole Moody.  He's funny. Nice. The life of the party. One of those folks everyone loves. We were softball teammates for thirty years or so.  Every Spring, as certain as the first robin sighting, my phone would ring... Moody was calling.. "Vic, our first softball practice is gonna be (on such n such day at such n such time at such and such park.)  This happened year, after year, after year.

As my skills (what little I had) declined over the years (I went from outfield, to 1st base, to catcher, to backup catcher, to catcher only when we had ten people so I hadta, to bench-sitter, to mascot/cheerleader kinda, rah rah ("nice hit Ron)" guy. 

So....... a few years back... come April..  phone rang.. Yep, up popped Mr. Moody's name on caller ID. Remember him?  The Bart Simpson beloved smartass, nice, fun, funny guy who is only one year younger than me?  Yeah, him.  So I answered and asked, "Moody... let's be honest. What little skills I had have diminished even further.  I really thought this would be the year my phone wouldn't ring, and I wouldn't blame you."  'Bart' (Moody) replied "Vic, I could never do that, because if I did then I would be the oldest player on the team."

'

I get lost writing, sorry.  So, I went to Wiki, Goodle to ascertain just whointheheck Doak Walker was amd why is the 'best running back' award named after him.

Doak was a Senior in High School in Dallas, TX in 1944. Busy. He was busy. He lettered in not only football, but, basketball, baseball, swimming and track and field. Five, count 'em, five letter awards. He and teammate Bobby Layne (WOW, a future NFL star himself) would lead Highland Park HS to the state championship game.

1944 was all about WWII, so, Doak joined the Merchant Marines when he graduated.. and served until the War ended and he was discharged in November of 1945.  Two days later he played in his first college football game for SMU. Only got to play 5 games, but he was good. Quite good. Halfback, kicker.. Named to play in the East-West Shrine game... he even tossed a game tying touchdown pass there.

Then...

1945, war was over, but, inducted anyways.  Hup two three four, The United States Army came calling.  Served for one year, then, discharged. Back to SMU.

Once there again, he did a little bit of everything. Halfback. Receiver. Passer. Kicker. Punter. Punt returner. Kick returner. Defensive back (3 interceptions).  And, sang the National Anthem, played trombine in band at halftime, sold hot dogs after they finished, then, back out on the field for the second half.  The last sentence may be embellished a tad, but, you get the drift Moody? He did a little bitta everything.

All conference, All American, Maxwell award as soph., Heisman winner as a junior. So impactive he was at SMU, in Dallas, at the Cotton Bowl, they expanded it and it's nickname became "The House That Doak Built."

Sure, throw in NFL Rookie of the year, 5 Pro Bowls. League scoring leader, twice. Pride of the Lions. #37 retired. College Football Hall of Fame.  NFL Hall of Fame. Ya travel to SMU you can see a nifty statue of him just outside their stadium.

Shortly before Doak's passing in 1998, Sport's Illustrated writer Rick Reilly penned:

"He's Doak Walker, and he was as golden as golden gets. He had perfectly even, white teeth and a jaw as square as a deck of cards and a mop of brown hair that made girls bite their necklaces. He was so shifty you couldn't have tackled him in a phone booth, yet so humble that he wrote the Associated Press a thank-you note for naming him an All-American. Come to think of it, he was a three-time All-American, twice one of the Outstanding Players in the Cotton Bowl, a four-time All-Pro. He appeared on 47 covers, including Life, Look and Collier's. One time, Kyle Rote, another gridiron golden boy, saw a guy buying a football magazine at a newsstand. 'Don't buy that one,' Rote said. 'It's not official. It doesn't have a picture of Doak Walker on the cover.'"

WHY YOU LITTLE!!!!!!  That.  That Mr. Moody, is who Doak Walker was.

Paul Harvey, Good day.

Love, Victurd

The price of tea in China is $0.31 per pound, which is about $0.68 per kilogram. This puts the price of tea in China at about one-third the price of tea in the United States. The Chinese government heavily subsidizes the cost of tea production, so the final retail price is relatively low.

On your mark.... get set...... no.

One of my alltime favorite videos...  a kid's relay race... 6 year olds... moms, dads a hollerin'... Boom, and they're off!  Runnin' like the wind, baton in hand...older, younger siblings kinda running around the track along side 'em to root, cheer 'em on...

First two 'legs' (handoffs) done nicely.  Next two eager in anticipation of their turn... eyes wide open, arms extended awaiting the baton. Finally, the first hand-off person arrives.. little man grabs baton, gets off smooth.. headed on around the oval..  next kiddo... well... a tad of confusion set in, handoff went well, but, he ran in the opposite direction!  Chased by screaming old folks!  Finally corralled after a hunnerd yards or so, turned around.  My heart!

Kid, that's kinda how I feel about Black Friday.  NO.  As in no thanks. Not no's but hells no's... I ain't going. Screw that Mr. Custer..  Me and Snagglepuss, exit, stage left.

Oh back in the day I could, would.  I stunk playing football, I really did, but by golly, Teddy Ruxpin at half price?  I'd take on the biggest, baddest 6'3", 220 lb linebacker to getme onea them. And did.  A big screen or two back in the day. Why not?  I'm usually up at 3am anyways.

Today, huh uh.

Gimme a lazy river.  Pass me that plate of turkey. Does it smell funny?  Ok, WHO ate the last piece of pecan pie?  CURSES!

On your mark... get set...  GO - to the easy chair. I dream to be that uncle.. grandpa..whatever.. that falls asleep laid all back in the easy chair.. snores.. and the littles giggle like crazy watching, listening to same. They could even draw on me with a magic marker, I wouldn't care.

It seems we, the United States of Ammmmmerka, have gone nutso over holidays.

Starts with 43 foot tall skeletons in the yard a month or so before Halloween. Soon after, 632 gimme gimme gimme lemme lemme vendor wannabes will put signs up, place ads offering: "will risk life and limb to hang your Christmas lights" . Inflatable pilgrams, turkeys show up in yards before the pumpkins have even had a chance to rot.

Christmas in July. Amazon "Prime Day."  Black Friday. Small Business Saturday.  Cyber Monday. Patooey.

Oh Lord, won'tya buy me, a La-Z-Boy to plop in.. .. my friends all drive  Porches to Wally, druther sit on my rear end. I'll Amazon instead.. and wait for delivery.. next day before 3. Oh Lord wontya buy a La-Z-Boy for me.

Hustle bustle has left the building - some time after the turna the century. Energy, at this age, stage, is instead spent griping and groaning over energy prices, wide receivers that can't catch, my hip hurts when I walk, and Brian Busby weather forecasts. My kinda Black and Blue Friday.  AARP to harp, so to speak.

I guess I'd better get up, go take on the day.  First, I'm gonna emulate that little boy and go the other way. Won't take me long to walk to the bedroom, lay down, play Sudoku, fall asleep with phone in hand.

Snore.  You can even draw magic marker on my face, I don't care.  Hey, if you've got a brownish-red one, would you mind filling in that bald spot on toppa my head?

A few or thirty naps from now.. Ice, snow, dastardly cold, biting freezing wind, and Rudoph and Santa will show. The glitter, the glamour, eventually in stow. Seeya next year red and green.

We'll toast the New Year in.. (fancy for two beers, asleep before 9).. Seeya later guests, please close the gate... cause then, 11 months of election ads await.

Life, as an old fart.  I'm an ever spinning (and napping) top, whirling around till I drop.. Ya got me goin' in circles... oh round and round I go, I'm spun out over you, life.

Honey?  Can we Door Dash a pecan pie? Victor? Huh?  You haven't had a honey since 2005.  Oh yeah, OK, thanks. I'll go to Perkins then.  On your mark, get set, no.. tomorrow. I've got some easy river, La-Z-boy snoozing, things, to do first.

Love, Victurd

Thanksgiving Buffett......

Victor, that's not how a food BUFFET is spelled.  Ya got an extra T there.

Pipe down Judy Hensley.

Victor, whointhehell is Judy Hensley?

Judy Hensley was in Leave It To Beaver's class.. . the prototypical 'hall monitor'..... snitch... delighter of glee when others are in misery, or, this case, Missouri.

You can call me Ray, or you can call me Judy, but ya doesn't have to spell Thanksgiving BuffetT with TWO T's, it's only one.

Ray, Judy, whoever you are, YOUR WRONG!

TEACHER!  TEACHER!  I DECLARE, VICTOR SPELLED "YOU'RE" WRONG!

Actually, YOUR WRONG is correct.  As in, it's your wrong believing I spelled it incorrectly.  Article this morning in the paper (which is fancy for online, hardly anyone reads the real, live paper any more).. about Warren BuffetT.  You know, the rich guy with kajillions and kajillions?  Yes, I remember him.

Anyways, he's giving thanks, and giving back - his riches. He just donated more than $870 million to four charitable foundations.  The donations "supplement certain of the lifetime pledges I made in 2006 and that continue until my death (at 93, I feel good but fully realize I am playing in extra innings)," Buffett said Tuesday in a statement. 

"Ghost on second."

Victor?  Are you talking about, like, when you and another Flanigan child battled two other Flanigan children in the front yard in wiffle ball... and.. you got multiple men on base, but there were only two 'real' people on your team, so, you walked off 2nd and announced "Ghost on second" or, "Man on third" so you could go bat?

That's a good summation (Judy) but no, well, kinda sorta.  I'm talking about the rule put into effect under Major League Baseball Commissioner Rob Manfred's helm, where, when extra innings happen, the tenth inning will start with a "Man on second", "Ghost runner" if you will.

How come?

To speed up the game. The NFL has surpassed MLB in popularity, baseball is pretty much (my take) only really beloved by us old geezers.  Folks be in a hurry nowadays.  Ain'tya noticed?  When's the last time you went the speed limit and, the rest of the traffic did as well?  A long time. It's hurry, hurry, hurry.  The games are getting too long. We gotta get young'ns 'back in the game', ie, interested.  Hurry.  We geezers are thinning out.

My 'old geezer take' on whips (that's short for whippersnappers) and snots (that's short for snotnoses) is that they might say something like "Move over, hell, I don't wanna live to be 90."  

Well... I (me, the old geezer who loves Thanksgiving BuffeT's, 17 inning ballgames) and not only a baseball purist, but a life purist. I would say (to the whip/snot) "Ask him/her at age eighty-nine, 364 days, "ya sure you don't wanna live to be 90?"  Of course that won't happen, because by then we'd all be 153 years old.

The point being....... VICTOR? Sometimes you really have a point in these writings?

Yes, Judy, I do.

Slow down, ya move too fast, Ya got to make the morning last, just, kicking down those cobblestones, lookin' for fun and feelin' groovy...

Groovy?  You really ARE a geezer aren't ya,  Yes Judy, I am.

DON'T CALL ME OLD!  I personally vote, call me any ole name ya wanna, it's a blessed thing to be old.  Right Warren?  Agree Keith Richards?  And the more I think about this, I realize you were always on my mind (too) Willie.  Agree about the aging thing?

We're old.  Victor, we're not old.  Old is 80 or 90 something.  True, but, take a peek around. We're losing folks, good folks, way, way too soon, and way, way too damn frequently.  Sure, I do hope to still hit a golf ball 170 yards when I'm 80, 85.  Victor, you can't do that now, how would you believe you will hit it that far at 80, or 85.  Bite me Judy. Just let us be.... exist.

So, next time ya tailgate a geezer... we might be kinda smart aleck and slow down a bit to the point you'll finally pass us... oh, and whenya do and we show you that one finger sign, what we're really saying is "We just want one more year, or 12, 15, 20 maybe." I dunno, ask me when I'm eighty-nine, 364 days... yep, I want tomorrow.

It's our hope, wish, The Sun'll Come Out, Tomorrow, right Annie/Judy/Whippersnapper/Snotnose? And, that we'll be around to see it.

"Age is just a number. Life and aging are the greatest gifts we could possibly ever have."  Cicely Tyson

Right on Cicely! Far out!  We don't ask for much. Senior coffee prices at Mickey D's is nice... Half off on Tuesday's at the Thrift Store, yep.. and mebbe even the 10% off AARP rate at the Motel 6.  Sure Victor, we'll leave the light on.

GREAT!  We'll be there in a minute.  (Ahm, that's 60 mph, not 68, 73, yada) First though, we gotta run (ok, waddle) by the QT to check to see if these 7 Powerball tickets I got in my coat won anything, then, we gotta pick out 12 new scratchers after we turn in the one we won $6 on.

Ba da-da da-da da-da, feelin' groovy.  On the road again (right Willie?) Start Me Up (right Keith?) Man on second, ghost on first. PLAY BALL!  POP CORN, PEANUTS, SCORECARDS!  Hey, gimme a bag of peanuts perty please. Here ya go sir!

Mildred, can I borrow your teeth to crunch these shells? I'll give 'em right back...

Today, we give thanks for aging. 

Love, Victurd

Thanks.......

Seems to be the apropos time to do that, give, offer thanks.

July, 3rd, 2005 my first blog.  Today's blog, #2058.

That includes a lotta stupid ones. Way too many TMI ones.  Fer sure some "Ain't it awful", "Woe is me", self pity ones.

Plenty where I preached, but, I'm only 'ordained' to blog.

For certain, more than a few written after a beer or two.  Most, very early morning, written accompanied by coffee. And you.

You there.  Thank you.

Some who've read are no longer with us.  May they rest in peace.

Some who usedta read no longer do, and hey, that's OK.  I'm not huge on twisting arms. I worry about offending people, and if I ever have, did, certainly wasn't intentional.

For those still here who occasionally hit 'like' or send nice words (or even just read), thank you.

A few years back, I bought a 2002 (I think it was) Mercury Grand Marquis.   The guy who owned it had passed on and his daughter sold it to me. One owner, the 'door combination' was his date of birth. It came complete with black electrical tape over the constantly lit CHECK ENGINE LIGHT because the glare from the light bugged him.

As we ride this rollercoaster together, check engine lights DO come on, illuminate. Sure they bug us, but, aging helps in our reaction to same.  This blog, you, have really helped me to not worry so much about 'stuff'.  'S' happens.  Doesn't happen to bug me (and hopefully you) as much as we pile up the miles.

Death, taxes and checkenginelights are certain.

As are nice people, like you.

Monopoly tells us "Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. Go directly to jail."  Tomorrow, however, after downing the turkey, dressing, spreading family love, go directly to the dessert table.  Have a piece of pecan, or, pumpkin pie.  Or, why not both?

Thank you, truly for being here. Happy Thanksgiving. 

Love, Victurd

Express yourself.........

Express yourself
Express yourself

You don't ever need help from nobody else
All you got to do now
Express yourself

Whatever you do, uh
Do it good, uh
Whatever you do, do, do, Lord, Lord
Do it good, alright

I think it was just a pooter.

It wasn't until he'd made his way down the chimney, took one look, decided to put mom and dad on the naughty list.

I can't believe I ate the whole thing.....    "Oh crap, Johnny's teacher on Caller ID!"    X/6, "I'm NEVER playing Wordle again."

  I mean, what does she see in him?  He's already dropped a pass.. and that fumble REALLY killed 'em.  I guess.. maybe he does have a tight end.

Who is Willis?

Circa 1930...  "I knew the first time I laid my eyes on you Ros' you were THE ONE for me."

Gee Liam, I really wish I could help you when you move Saturday but I'm supposed to go to the grocery store for my wife.

Ugh.. Oh great... it looks like maybe I'm having a peacock

And to think, I don't even know how to play Bunco!

Nah, let's not "Say Cheese".  Howabout, we all raise our right arm and shout "Dyslexics Rock!"

Actually, I'm damn glad that month is over.  Pumpkin spice, pumpkin cheesecake, pumpkin shots, pumpkin latte, pumpkin potpourri, even pumpkin bowling.

When I get older losing my hair, many years from now.. will you still be sending me a Valentine, Birthday greetings bottle of wine?

Hey, save these glasses.. we can use 'em again in 2743

Victor?  Remember that time whatshername told you "Not everyone gets as excited about your ideas as you?"

                                                                           BITE ME!

(Be sure and watch the below.  Remember how cute Annette was?)

Now It's Time To Say Goodbye. Goodnight Annette. the Disney Mouseketeers. - YouTube

Thanks for being here........... expressially you.

Love, Victurd