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