Leftovers.......

Of course, today, turkey comes to mind.  So we don't lose any buddies, I found this:

If your turkey has been properly handled, you can refrigerate and eat it for up to four days. If you are planning to freeze it, it's best to freeze it within one day of cooking for optimal texture and taste. However, leftover turkey can be frozen after three days and it will be fine.

Really, of course, leftover is about so much more in life.  A class reunion is an example, sadly, but too, a tug on the shoulder reminder if we're here, we're lucky. Not everyone is afforded living a long life.

Forty some tree rings ago, I worked for Eastern Airlines.  Victor, remember, people RUN AWAY when you tell stories of your life.  Well, Del Shannon, you just go ahead and Runaway, my little Runaway a run run run run runaway.  I don't mean that meanly, I just mean, if you'd rather go have a turkey samwhich, I ain't gonna get mad.

Eastern Airlines, Kansas City, 40 tree rings (or, years, your call) ago.  Eastern here had been a one horse kinda thing.  Several flights a day, all, feeding major hub cities.  Changed. Hub experiment here, boo koo hired, nonstops virtually everywhere.

Softball.  Eastern had a softball team during the one horse era.  Decent, like all the other teams.  Boo koo hired, a tryout.  Young pups (new hires) not really given a chance - roster stayed 'one horse' similar, soooooooooooooooo.

A new Eastern Airlines team to be formed.... The Leftovers.  You can probably save yourself from ordering the paperback, kinda like a Hallmark movie on train tracks to an obvious destination - yes, The Leftovers kicked the butt of the One Horse Eastern team leaving nuttin' leftover 'cept the tears.

Holidays remind.  Big ole table, the empty chairs next to us leftover.  All the years we enjoyed, but, did we really pay great, great attention to all?  It's not until we a leftover - we grasp that feel of "dadgumit, I REALLY wish I'da paid greater attention... OH what I'd give to go back.":

Similar, but different, when families split.  Not everyone has experienced - good for you.  Those that have - things change.  The chairs formally occupied by loved ones, albeit inlaw loved ones - now sit empty even though we most all are very much alive.  No, it will never be the same, but, at least to me, love never stops.  Like much, all that's left are, leftover memories and, the love never lessens.

What's that show......... the "like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives."  Much, most - fleeting - that is why (Run Forest, Victurd sermon #9,862 upcoming here)..  Bite me... that is why we much 'record with our eyeballs' as much as we can.  And.............

It's also why, Victor, you can't walk around like a sourpuss, OR, write like life is a pile of yuck, because, IT AIN'T. It's a thing of beauty - in spite of all that sand that has passed by.

I lay in bed most nights and the same ole leftovers of the day help make me soon study my eyelids.  It/they, usually involve children, their happiness, go-get-em-ness of everything...  smiles, any ole age..   fun that folks have had thru the day...  interdealings with dear friends and loved ones...  the beauty of nature......  and pets.  Sure, there's more, but, at a quick glance - these thoughts are leftover.

Golden years.  Leftovers.  The fridge.  Smiles, happiness, touch, hugs... much.

Enjoy your lefltover(s)....... I planta.

Love, Victurd

You just did this last year.....

Did what?

A feeble attempt at humor in recounting Thanksgiving today and yesterday.

Sue me, it's cool.

The first one........

"The first Thanksgiving was celebrated in 1621 as a harvest festival. It included 50 Pilgrims, 90 Wampanoag Indians, and lasted three days. Historians believe that only five women were present."

Whothehell cooked?  Good question.  Ripley, believe it, they didn't even have turkey, nope, records show ducks, geese and swans...

The NFL is, of course, a big part of the T-Day tradition, beginning in 1920.  Did Jerry Jones own the Cowboys then?  Nope, he was still a gleam.  They didn't play in the first one, but, it's primarily, all these years, included the Detroit Lions. The Cowboys came along around 1966 a year after their inception.

Someone said something about Franksgiving....... the heck is that?  Well... in 1939 and 1940, President Franklin Roosevelt (thus, Franksgiving) wanted to move Turkey day up to the 2nd week in November to stir the economy, allow more time for Christmas shopping.  Half the States went along, half protested.  (The more things change the more they stay the same, eh?)  WWII happened, interrupted the football and Franksgiving - tradition returned, 4th Thursday, in 1945 after the War.

Our friends in Buffalo, NY hosted the first Turkey Trot in 1890 with six runners participating, running 5 miles on dirt roads.

The day after Thanksgiving is traditionally THE biggest day for plumbers in the United States.  Clogs from turkey grease, vegetable skins, rice, strained pipes, a lotta flushes... yada...  suffice to say, Turkey Trots aplenty.

Another Ripley says APPLE PIE is the most popular, NOT pumpkin pie.  I don't care what they say, fetch me a piece of both pecan and pumpkin, then, if room left over, mebbe apple pie topped with vanilla ice cream.

Female turkeys don't gobble.  I call BS.  MISOGYNIST!  AM NOT!

Them damn political 'Franklin's, this time Benjamin, keep sticking their head in there.  Ben wanted the Turkey to replace the Bald Eagle as the representative of our Country. Obviously, never happened.

TODAY, they say, is THE busiest travel day of the year, then, all the fams going home Sunday make that day the SECOND busies day.  Schwabby and Terry, careful with all that Colorado snow - and anyone else in harm's way.....

LIONS AND TIGERS AND BEARS OH MY!  Well, not exactly but close.  Another rich tradition, the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade, initially borrowed animals from The Central Park Zoo (monkeys, bears, camels and elephants) prior to the modern day big ole character balloons of today.

The song, originally intended to the be Thanksgiving Day song was, 
"One horse open sleigh"... well, that didn't last long, becoming popular around Christmas, thus, was changed to Jingle Bells, the rest is history!

What's your T-Day history?  Mine?  Jeff City, a kajillion wonderful family members.  Much, virtually everything, has changed.  You?  Sadly we've all faced loss... some divorce... geographic arrangements changed, many families flip flop "her side for T-Day, his for Christmas, then just the opposite next year."

We've already addressed 'Brown Friday' (the day after, busy busy busy for plumbers) but too, it's also known as Black Friday, sale, sale, sale, the start of the Christmas shopping cycle. (Also, the 'I don't feel bad putting up Christmas decorations on this day" day,)

I'd never heard of Drinksgiving, but, understand it's the Wednesday before Thanksgiving - what with folks back in town going out and about.  It's Uber popular and, Uber has even been offering free rides home the last few years.

Giving thanks, ain't that what this should all be about?  I reckon.  I remind myself daily, "don't fret for what ya ain't got, be thankful for whatya do."  I stumble, mebbe you do upon occasion too.  It's ok.  We be human.

We each have a long, wonderful list of things we're thankful for.  I won't bore you with mine, but please know, I am way thankful for your eyeballs here.

May you and yours have a joyous Thanksgiving!

Love, Victor

SIT........... STAY.......... SPEAK!

Victor to the library.  Long, kinda, story.  No Wi Fi at home now..

SIT (Victurd)........  STAY (Victurd)...    BLOG!  (Victurd)

It just ain't that easy.  This is kinda like a chap working at KeyPharmacy (Makers of No-Doz) going to work and he ain't got any idea about chemisty, and how to make No-Doz, let alone barely be able to spell it.

My goal here, No-Doz (ie, you, No-Doz).  Hard to be creative whenya ain't creative.  Or, not in the mood..."Sorry Hazel, not tonight."

Ha.  I'm always in the mood.  Calm down, always in the mood to blog it's just sometimes the brain is on E.

Pavlov.  Yes, he, the Ruskie who introduced us to "conditional reflex."  Mr. Pavlov noticed his hound pooches would salivate in the presence of the technician who normally fed them, rather than simply salivating in the presence of the food.  If he used a buzzer or metronome was sounded before the food was given, presto, once again, association and the dog would salivate.

SIT Victurd.  STAY Victurd.  BUZZER/METRONOME Victurd - WRITE DAMNIT!

Sorry, hard sometimes.

Surely, ole Pav had some older dogs, they couldn't have been all pups.  Wouldn't it reason there was one or ten where "you can't teach an old dog new tricks"?  Or mebbe even just his share of M-/C- student doggies.  Wonder if one'a the pooches would blame his own failure on his brother eating his homework?

You there.  You long term marrieds.  I would gather, if you've made it longterm, duties are shared, house cleanup is jointly, or mebbe alternating weeks on your non laundry week mebbe.  My father, funny ha ha, usedta empty his coffee cup... teasingly point his index finger at it like a pistol and bend his thumb back and forth, indicating, "Velma, run get me s'more coffee."  Most days he'd get his own, but, if she was up, he'd do this and he always thought he was funny ha ha.  Mebbe he/that was, I dunno.  He wasn't a piggy, he loved my mom mucho. Mom would smile, consent, fill his cup up.

Buddy o' mine, two little girls, mebbe 8 and 12, VERY active, fiesty... bordering 'not listening', not behaving.  Enrolled 'em in Karate class.  A few weeks later, he was in the garage, along with his snotnoses.... he asked one of 'em to bring him the hammer.. "YES SIR", and she ran, got hammer.  Then, asked the other one to bring him the screwdriver, "YES SIR"...  His brain thought "HUH?  WOW!  WHATEVER THESE DAMN CLASSES COST ME, WORTH IT!"

Conditional reflex.  I walk in a big store... I gotta pee.  Never fails. 

I walk into joint I walk into with prolly all too much frequency... I've got Pav'ed bassackwards.  I salivate, they run, fetch me my beer.

Hand touches hot surface, immediate withdrawal.  SIT.  HAND.  YEOUCH. REMOVE.

LOUD NOISE, JUMP!

SHOUT! Part 1 and 2 by the Isley Brothers............(Salivate, kinda) GIT UP AND DANCE!

Bouncing toddler has unknown substance in mouth, seen by parent or granny, RUN... Immediately. Conditioned reflex.

Airplane trip, white knuckles, conditional reflex.

Frank Loessser. WHO? WHOTHEHELLISTHAT?  He wrote, sang "Baby it's cold outside" with his wife Lynn Garland.  It was kinda sorta a conditioned reflex thing where, for every "nuh uh, can't" she would eschew his advance, he had a Pavlov conditional reflex answer ("uh huh, can").... you know, like:

I really can't stay
Baby, it's cold outside
I've got to go away
Baby, it's cold outside
This evening has been
Hoping that you'd drop in
So, very nice
I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice

AND SO ON............ AN SO ON... and finito with:

There's bound to be talk tomorrow
Think of my life-long sorrow
At least there will be plenty implied
If you got pneumonia and died
I really can't stay
Get over that hold out
Baby, it's cold
Baby, it's cold outside

Okay, fine, just another drink
That took a lot of convincing

Just like my momma consenting, laughing, giving into my father's awkward "gimme more coffee" pistol move, Lynn stayed and had one more drink.......  We'll never know the Paul Harvey to that story.

OK, I've written for 43 minutes.  I hope ya ain't asleep. NO-DOZ.

I'd better go before someone comes across thinking I'm the studious sort here.  I've a reputation to uphold. Ha.  On my way home is my 2nd favorite joint for lasagna.. I just might drive by, salivate, pull in.

That's A to B.

B to C would be my favorite hole-in-the-wall, OK, The Landing.  A mostly enclosed patio (two baby doors open to legally bypass local no smoking laws.)..   I will salivate, then, them cute little doggies will fetch me a beer.  Or two. Miller Lite, specifically.  

Then, get along home little doggie.

I love you.

Thank you for your eyeballs, not dozing off.

Happy Thanksgiving.  Salivate all ya want, I planta.  If you salivate on your pillow, just flip it over.

Love, Victurd

(Victurd did it, in the library, with the candlestick)

Let me tellya 'bout the birds and the bees..........

Birds have peckers, bees have stingers.  I'm still highly confused.

Women, steadfastly, always announce when they go pee.

Why?

Men, as a rule, pee more frequently.

Until 2018, women could not drive in Saudia Arabia.

Women can't drive in the US.  MISOGYNIST!  Nope, just personal observation.

During exercise women's primary fuel is fat, while men's is carbs.  I just Google 'em folks, I don't make em up.

Men typically have 25% thicker skin.

Women typically carry their body fat in their hips and thighs, men, in their stomachs. Women might argue there is a good amount of fat in a man's brain me thinks.

There are 67.85 million married men in the US, 68.45 women. For further clarification, please consult your Funk and Wagnall.

42.69 million women have never married.  47.85 million men never walked down the aisle.  Chickens.

Women generally control 51% of the stock, say so, in a household.  Relax, my opine. On average, women make 84% of what men do.  What's wrong with this picture? 

Women have a better sense of smell and taste.  Men generally smell worse.

Despite all the research about gender differences in listening, little to no evidence suggests that members of one gender are better listeners than the other.

Amending this blog (just like you can update Wiki any dayum time ya want), after that last sentence, upon further review, women do tend to use their middle fingers moreso than men.

The below, plagiarized.  HEY, I don't get paid here, bug off!

A store that sells new husbands has opened in Melbourne , where a woman may go to choose a husband. Among the instructions at the entrance is a description of how the store operates:
You may visit this store ONLY ONCE! There are six floors and the value of the products increase as the shopper ascends the flights. The shopper may choose any item from a particular floor, or may choose to go up to the next floor, but you cannot go back down except to exit the building!
So, a woman goes to the Husband Store to find a husband.
On the first floor the sign on the door reads:
Floor 1 - These men Have Jobs
She is intrigued, but continues to the second floor, where the sign reads:
Floor 2 - These men Have Jobs and Love Kids.
'That's nice,' she thinks, 'but I want more.'
So she continues upward. The third floor sign reads:
Floor 3 - These men Have Jobs, Love Kids, and are Extremely Good Looking.
'Wow,' she thinks, but feels compelled to keep going.
She goes to the fourth floor and the sign reads:
Floor 4 - These men Have Jobs, Love Kids, are Drop-dead Good Looking and Help With Housework. 'Oh, mercy me!' she exclaims, 'I can hardly stand it!'
Still, she goes to the fifth floor and the sign reads:
Floor 5 - These men Have Jobs, Love Kids, are Drop-dead Gorgeous, Help with Housework, and Have a Strong Romantic Streak.
She is so tempted to stay, but she goes to the sixth floor , where the sign reads:
Floor 6 - You are visitor 31,456,012 to this floor. There are no men on this floor. This floor exists solely as proof that women are impossible to please. Thank you for shopping at the Husband Store.
PLEASE NOTE:
To avoid gender bias charges, the store's owner opened a New Wives store just across the street.
The first floor has wives that love sex.
The second floor has wives that love sex and have money and like beer
The third, fourth, fifth & sixth floors have never been visited.

Things to do or say to keep a woman happy:

Take interest in her hobbies.  Give her your attention and tease her.  Give her kisses.  Ask her questions.  Don't take life too seriously.  Show up for her. Do date night.  Communicate like a boss.  Take care of your appearance.  Show her that you're listening.

Things to do or say to keep a man happy:

Buy 30 packs weekly at The Piggly.  Wear yoga pants.  Say "OK, lets'."

Victor, you're a pig.  I recently overheard, "Women are JUST AS BIGGA PIGS as men."

Oink.

By Henry, and Henrietta Gibson

Love, Victurd

Thoughts.......

As in, Victurd......."who cares?"

Chip chip cheerio, you jolly right there mate.  That said, I done pushed the 'new blog' button, ha, you're not gonna make it....... 

Thought numero uno, dayum it's cold (33).  I know I know, you live in Houston/47,  San Diego/49, Joplin, MO/38 (Brrr too), Danville, IL/31 Brr, Durango, CO/18 (Brrr, double brrr)... We gots wind.  Bone chilling wind.

Are you ready? asks Pacific Gas and Electric....... Not no's, but hells no's.  I ain't ready for nonea them add-on, arm and a leg utilities, wearing more clothing,freezing until my Show Me State car has had enough time to Show Me it's sufficiently warmed up.

Blessed, Victor.  Life is blessed.  Don't go chasing waterfalls.......no, that ain't it.  Don't go worrying about what ya don't got, be thankful for what ya do.  Right, as in, shrinkage, purple tipped toes and fingers, exhales that make me look like I'm vaping....  BRRR.  You're correct, I'm THANKFUL!   I canardly wait for iced windows. snowshoveling a path to the car, YIPPEE!

Coffee. I gots coffee.  Furnace. Yum. Car heater, yum.  Windows that go up and down when they wanna. No?  Yes.  Don't. Get. Me. Wrong. I LOVE LOVE LOVE My car, it's just, sometimes, a tad persnickety. Like this morning.  Hello window. Don't be 'down', it'll be a good day. Oh, I see. You're down and the button won't make you go up. Oh well.  Now I'll be almost as cold as Durango, not quite, but almost.

Mirth. Mirth makes me happy. 

Healthy friends and family members make me happy.  Life don't come with no X-Ray vision, we just never know what the innards of some are fighting today.  Smiles are like wrapping paper, they cover up what's under.

How can one not think about this timea year and not be glutton?  Yum, yum, 'smore yum.   YES, I WILL have a piece of pumpkin pie AND a piece of pecan pie, gotta problem with that, big enough plate for that? One fork will work, thanks.   Turkey, turkey and s'more turkey.  I likes.

Mems.  This timea year conjures mems of once was.

I thought this morning about a blog about specific people I miss - but, that's like huge for me, but, not so much, for you.  That said - tis the timea year we eyeball yesterday, and sure, up pops those, no longer here, that comprised such an important time, place in our lives - this specific time of year.  Forever touched we are.  Not good they are gone, wonderful (and lucky) we are/were to have had them there for, with us.

Thank you for all the things in life that go like clockwork that we take for granted.  Truly.

Thank you for every golf ball that stays inbounds.  The ones that don't, I try to look positively at it, like......maybe I'm like the Easter golf Bunny, hiding eggs (colored golf balls) in the woods for other kids (golfers) to find in their hunts.  Yeah. That's it. Put that in your basket.

Positive Victurd, positive.

OK, I actually kinda look forward to Christmas and all that comes with it.  Festive.  For us.  For all, but 'specially the little ones.  Family.  Christmas dinner attendees change just like NCAA sport's teams now with their Transfer portal, NIL junk, gotta have a scorecard - not always, but sometimes.  Family and familiarity start the same. That's a good thought.

Annuder year almost past, where, we go cover roughly half as much ground as we usedta, forget a good portion'a junk from the past, sit, hear stories with friends, family, whilst wearing that "Oh yeah, I remember that" mask.  Still, we collect that cache of new stories in our iCloud brain for later.

Funny the stupid stuff said we remember.  The "I can't believe he/she just said that."  How we're complimented.  Maybe a behavior mildly condemned.  Impactive. We simply never forget stuff like that.  Human psyche. 

Ends.  Burnt ends.  (Frozen ends this timea year).  Yoga pants.  I know, I know, you gots Wranglers for you. Tit. Tat.  Life ends.  Hey, it's a reality.  Reminders hopefully make most days be mirth.

I miss much.  Regret some, sure.  Thankful for VERY much.

You.  I'm thankful for you and I only wish I could read inside your brains like you kinda sorta do mine.  Encrypted you say?  Yeah, I'm hard to figure, for sure. But, I'm me, whatever that means.

Going now... the East side of my face has sufficiently thawed from the driver side window being down as I drove across town.  Happy day, 

Love, Victurd

EMAW

Every Man A Wildcat.

When I think of wild cat, I think of feral. Why, oh why, would a cat insist, prefer, withstand paw freezing temps, rain, mud, beds of straw, being outmatched by virtually every other critter out in the wild...... not to mention be out there where the population can quadruple like China... lending to brothers, sisters, also perhaps being moms, dads, cousins, yuck.

Luna.  Luna wasn't a feral cat - but, me thinks in one of her prior 8 lives, she was tortured by a fat, redheaded, old geezer... not me, but, I think she thought it was me. I LOVE LOVE LOVE me some animules, even cats.  However, much as I tried, Luna treated me as if she were a table side Mongolian chef, slicing and dicing my arms, legs, face - with pleasure, accompanied by hiss.  I always laughed, which, of course, backfired. Try as  I might, I was never befriended. Ironic mebbe she was a female. I AM NOT A MISOGYNIST.  Ha.

There is a town called Manhattan.  Nuh uh, not that one. This one sits 'out there' in Eastern Kansas.  Purple.  Theys prouda their purple.  Kansas State Wildcats.  Ifn's I weren't such a die hard MIZ ZOU Fan, I'd hopscotch right on over that stench in Central Kansas (Is that bird really a bird?) and become onea them EMAW fans myself.

Colin Klein. Star QB, ultra religious, role model, nice, nice dude, talented.  Went on the become K State's Offensive Coordinator after he fell just short in the Heisman Trophy race.  Anyways, he was such a model of perfection - not only was he a virgin prior to marriage, he/she had never even kissed.  WHAT?  Uh huh, you heard it.

K State's FB coach now.  Sorry, kinda, not really, I'm a sport's geek. Nod off now, click that little X in the upper right hand corner, or, carry on brother (or sister.) If you live in Kansas City and you get/see the Jungle Law (personal injury lawyer commercials) you might relate to "He's good. Real good."  And, he is.  Chris Klieman worked his way up the ranks.  Prior to taking the K State job, he coached at the next level down, won BOO KOO National Champtionships (BOO KOO = lazy, noninvestigative blog research for 'more than one, prolly less than 100). He's good. Real good.

Well, they just lost a third game this year.  At home. Neither, third or home loss happens often.  I was taken back by Chris being emotional after the game, blaming himself of letting his players down...  "I'm just hurting for those kids, it's been a really hard two weeks for me, and I feel awful for those older guys that have my back. I let them down, it's been rough."  He went on to say,

"I've had as tough a week as I've had - non football related with some family things - and it puts a lot of things in perspective. I'm fortunate because I've got a ton of people around me that believe in me.  I've got a bunch of people in a lot of places that have looked out for the Kliemans and I'm thankful as heck."

WHAT?? COACHES ARE REAL HUMANS TOO? For behoogity sakes, it puts things in perspective....... assists us sports nerds, or anyone for that matter, "ya mean they lead real lives too? I'da never thunk it."

Last, but certainly not least drop of purple from EMAW, K-State, Manhattan, KS.  K State football sucked, quite literally, for many a year.  Along came a humble, organized, super nice fellow named Bill Snyder - and he turned the program around.  Ceptin' maybe Andy Reid, I don't think I've heard, seen a coach with as much respect as Bill Snyder.

I've probably told this story before. Don't care. Old farts repeat things.

I've probably told this story before. Don't care. Old farts repeat things.

Coach Bill, who now has the Stadium in Manhattan (not NY), KS named after him, got a letter from my friend's sister.  She, her family, HUGE EMAW Wildcat fans, rooms in their house purple.  Her son had a tragic accident.  Was working on a tower in Columbia, Missouri, fell many stories, was left paralyzed.  After awhile, in effort to help cheer her son up, she penned a not to Coach.  "Is there any way you could maybe send him a card... a decal.. a pennant? He'd be so honored."

A couple weeks went by.  Friday night.  The Friday before K-State was in Columbia to play MU, in walks Bill Snyder into the young man's hospital room.  There was no reporter there, it wasn't done for "see what coach did" it was done because he is a compassionate human being, and a dadgum good man.

Maybe next time, I'll share a Jerome Tang story.  He's a former HS basketball coach who went on to be an assistant at Baylor for 19 years, then, was picked for the K State job.  Prior to those 19 years at Baylor, head coach Scott Drew invited himself to the Tang's house for a visit, presumptive interview.  High school coaches, making what they do (NOT MUCH), had Jerome and his wife a tad worried.  They had $10.81 in checking and a half slab of ribs in the freezer.  Musta worked, tasted decent, after an hour, Drew offered him the job and that's some'a the Paul Harvey of that.

EMAW.

Columbia - hopscotch over you know where, (PEW!), Manhattan, KS...  I think I'd look good in purple.  So do they.

Later............  Victurd

Happy,........

Ain't that our goal?

We gots enough things in life that 'drain'.... accentuate the positive, ie, 'fountains.'

Your happy, my happy - may be COMPLETELY different, and, to me, that's what makes happy so spectacular.

Dogs (cats too, but this sentence, dogs).. Head out the winder of the car - it's like a 4 year old staring at the Christmas tree, knowing his first name starts with R, and he sees a big ole gift for R.  

Dogs.  Being walked, or, better yet, walking you/me.  Their excitement reminds me as if they're going down the jetway to get on board a Westbound 707 for Cancun.  That may be East, but you get the drift.

Finding a penny, heads up.  Pocketing.

Finding a penny, heads down, tails up.... flipping it over, envisioning the next chap's smile, good fortune.

Caller ID of a loved one.

Caller ID of one you have absolutely no interest in talking to.  No, that ain't necessarily happy, but, that their name lights up, ya think "no way Jose", that's happy.

Payday.

Tuesday.  For me, Tuesday is an absolutely 'nothing planned' day.  Yum.

Geezers, with roughly the same banana blackmarks, age as you... sitting around... discussing life, things we did, places we went, fitty+ years ago - tears of laughter coming to our eyes.

Liberty.  First, I love the Horace Greeley 'Go West' (or East) do'ers, go'ers of life.  It just ain't never been in my brain.  I love Liberty - and, continuing to live here affords me those tears of laughter fairly frequently.

Liberty, Horace combined.  Wednesday is a golf day, BUT, some buddies in my HS class, many, those that got the Go West Young Man itch years ago, every Wednesday, they have a Zoom meeting, happily connecting dudes from points across the land.  How cool it that?  It just takes one person to start something like that, something that affords a ton of happiness for all.  Kudos.

Seeing others happy.  Ain't it fun, better?  

Hugs, pecks.

Fist bumps, high fives.

Humor.  There's a guy I play golf with every week.  He's 79.  He's had some pretty ugly things happen to him in life.  He amazes me.  Positive, happy, and DAYUM funny.  He's Tim Conway, for free.  We draw straws to form teams, and every time I find we're on the same team I exclaim, "Damnit, NOW I gotta have fun."

Stool handles.  Of course, ya got the 1 and the 2, just move the stool handle down.  You're in a group of friends, coworkers, relatives, whatever - and someone starts by saying "did you hear what so and so said?... of, "Did you hear about so and so?".. and mebbe, "well, so and so was talking about so and so".... insteada the BP escalating, ya simply flush your internal stool handle.  Old age gives us that stool handle.

Old age.  Yes, old age can piss us off.  Last year, I went to a HS basketball game where fitty some years ago I could move (long jump, high jump, basketball, football, yada, average at all, but, point is I could move.) When I got to the ticket window I asked "and where's the elevator to get upstairs?"  That's, old age. That said, blessed.

Leftovers.  No cooking tonight.  Leftovers (thrift stores), or, I usually call 'em dead people's clothes... or any little needed (or not) knick knack.  Leftovers, the ones left in our life.  Blessed we are to still be here.

Beauty... in the form of Nature, and sure, the opposite sex.  I am human, sorry, kinda, not really.

Back roads.  I use 'em whenever I can.  To the tune of it's gonna take me 7 more minutes, don't care, leisurely, more scenic, heart rate stays perty normal, fingernails - still the same length.

Relationships.  They're like baseball cards, kinda sorta.  Turn it over, see the stats.  Some last years and years.  Others, brevity.  Some'a those long-timer stats, OMG... some'a the flash in the pan ones, not so much.  Bottomline though, hey, they made it to being on a baseball card - forever connected.

Beer. Sorry, kinda, not really.

Bloggers who have the internal fortitude to see a reader yawn, as in, Victurd it'd make me happy if you run along now.

Running along,

Happily,

Love, Victurd

Same ole same ole.....

This blog will start just like any other.  I have zero idea whatinthehell I'm gonna write about. Sorry, kinda, it is what it is.

I thought about copy/pasting the words to the  diarrhea song, you know, like:

When you're sliding into first
And your pants begin to burst
That's diarrhea, diarrhea

When you're sliding into two
And your pants are filled with goo
That's diarrhea, diarrhea

When you're sliding into third
And you feel a greasy turd
That's diarrhea, diarrhea

When you're sliding into home
And your pants are filled with foam
That's diarrhea, diarrhea

Certain you're aware. That song was from Parenthood, one of my favorite (probably sophomoric) movies.  It was a birds-eye of parenting and all therein. They don't giveya no 'structions on how to be a parent...  and lo and behold, long about late 2, early 3, the little snotnoses start talking back to you with real words, whatsup with that?  Therein starts, worries, crows feet, dad bods, sometimes financial despair happens.

I thought about a blog about leaks, but, that's kinda limited.  I did this simply because seems, at my ripe old age, pee is about all I do.. and.. the new tire I just purchased, leaked.  No cause for alarm, put the spare on, take tire back, our problems are solved.

Chronologically, spare was the next blog idea, because, my spare, yeah, the donut, was flat as well. Kid missed work (he doesn't drive, fat father takes him), finally all that was rectified.

Whilst this ain't (necessarily) about finances... next thought was the song 'Brother can you spare a dime'.   I learnt it was a song about the 'great' depression... Bing and Rudy Valee voiced it.  Twas titled such, per the lyricist "We had to have a title... Not to say, my wife is sick, I've got six children, the Crash put me out of business, hand me a dime. I hate songs of that kind." They'd ventured around Central Park NY, and heard "can you spare a dime" on way too many occasions. 

The collected ideas, poop, el baño?, the Depression, financial ruin, some aspects of parenting, flat tires, shops that put on a new tire despite instructions "fix the new tire that was on it" (oops, slipped, sorry)... all....... make one simply want Calm.

I ain't smart.  I have a minor in psychology. DO NOT be impressed, I failed to mention I majored in PE.  HA.  Psychology intrigues me.  I hate, truly, the above paragraphs I wrote.

A goal in life is to, at least attempt to portray positive from my 6' (ok damnit, I shrank, 5'11" or so) body... thereby, hopefully leaving folks with "ya know, he ain't a bad egg." Peace, happiness SHOULD come from within, not dependent on anything external. Not a fan of negativity, the game of "Ain't it awful", and Debbie Downers (VICTOR, YOU MISOGYNIST!) AM NOT!.  As I blogged plugged into electricity at Mickey D's, I was adjacent to one of my favorite peoples in the World, an 85 year old golfing buddy (and his daily coffee group) and I overheard him mention (VERYcalmly) to one'a the guys, 'Whateverhisnamewas' I forget, "your glass is half empty isn't it."  You tell 'em Charlie, I'll pat ma' foot and write about it.

I slip.  You slip.  Ok, maybe some of you don't.  

Then I think, holy guacamole, it's Saturday.  Uno, dos, tres days until the Election.  Is not the vast majority of American laying in bed, fearful to unfurl the bedspread to see the outcome, either way, the following two weeks, the ongoing 4 years?

HELP, I need somebody.  No you don't Victor, put on your big girl panties. HA

HELP, I need somebody, not just anybody. OK Victurd, Mr. Negativity, why don't you simply up and move, get the hell outta Dodge.  Even though YOU, yourself said 'Peace, happiness SHOULD come from within, not dependent on anything external', go, be a wussy, up and move.  

No matta' where ya live, poop, diarrhea, depression, pot holes (flat tires), move to (the children, they will find you).. grow up Victurd.

Eh, whatever. I think moving sounds yummy.  I think........

I think......

I found it.

WHERE VICTOR?   Influenced by "It never rains in California" - moving to Palm Desert?  Ahm, no.  Somewhere with a River?  Ahm no.  Good, because, don't forget......"Well, ya got trouble my friend, Right here I say, trouble right in River City."

I SAID I found it.

I'm moving to Calm, Missouri.  Uh huh, am.  I think it's a ghost town now. Down around the beauty of Southern Missouri, Northern Arkansas.  I just know I will never ever have another woe, worry, flat tire, fingernail biting stuff life dishes out.  Perfect.  There's even a Liberty Baptist church (or was) and a Liberty Cemetery.  I ain't fallin' for that little redheaded snotnose's weather forecast about "The sun'll come out tomorrow".. I'm gettin' the hell outta Dodge today.

Brother, can you spare a dime for gas money?

Oh doggie don't you poop on ma' boots.

Love, Victurd