Are we there yet, huh, are we are we?

What are your plans?

Are you like me.. same ole same ole stuff pretty much every day?

Enlighten me... is your brain exploring Booking.com for your dreams, desires, bucket list stuff?

Me, I've got a baby affliction (it ain't bad, I've just slowed down, have to chase slower women now), but, to that end, I'll play golf anytime, any temp, condition, because I can see, envision, know 'it's' coming (the day I eventually cant.) Stuff like that cross your brain, play into your plans?

I hope my buddy Randy won't whack me, and I don't think he will.  For quite a few years now, he's posted these really cool videos of his hound, Buddy, winding in and out of forest paths, by, around, over, through creeks (Randy follows with his all terrain,  GoPro camera) for the express purpose, intent of fun, exploration, and, grabbing the nicest stick to bring home, navigate back thru the woods. .. Randy's latest post, he wrote:

"Some things never change. Even though he’s getting older, he’s still a kid at heart. I hope we can all relate. We don’t need to grab the biggest stick anymore. Just grabbing a stick with a purpose in mind will give us pleasure. My purpose is the fire pit and his purpose is to keep me having to sharpen my mower blades. 🤣😂😜."

You go Buddy!  And Randy, you continue to follow, video as we all enjoy immensely!

Are you.... yes, you. Still a kid at heart?

Are you OK if your quest doesn't involve the biggest stick any longer?

Do you think, as you wind thru the roads of life, ie, following Buddy, playing golf, hitting the hay at night for that smooch and "night night", do you, in the back of your mind, think about knowing 'that day' will come, THUS, gaining a heightened appreciation,  vote of thanks for the ability to enjoy same ole same ole?

I sure as heck do.  Life can be a struggle.  

It is said, in golf, if you mentally think about your every move, you're toast.

While I very much struggle in golf (and don't really care that I do), knowing that last round will one day happen gives perfect impetus to put a smile on my face and fend off being a sour puss! And....hells to the nos I ain't perfect, SURE I slip.

I hope, I/we do the same (enjoy, appreciate, are thankful) as we wind these trails. 

Life is, can be, fulla shoulda woulda coulda.  Oh the games people play now (you? Me? Mebbe we slip up sometimes) resort to "ain't it awful?"... "Why me?".. yada.

Even with all the (sorry about the French) political shit we've endured the last however many years... 

There ain't no place better than here, today.

Lucky, we are.

Remind me from time to time, wouldya?

Keep chasing that stick Buddy...

Love, Victurd

Robot umps...

Say it ain't so....

I haven't really delved into full force... but I know experimentation is happening in Spring Training, 'ABS' (Automated Ball-Strike System)...

The ump still makes the call, but, the batter, pitcher or catcher has the right to tap their helmet... indicating 'challenging the call' (they get two per game)... they immediately use the camera image of the ball crossing the plate (or not.)

They've got the inside-outside call down. (Victor, this is boring... Bear wit' me, sorry) but it's the top and bottom of the zone they struggle with. Picture a short Jose Altuve and a grande' Aaron Judge.

Nonea that is my gripe.

Say it ain't so, but if it is, I will very much miss:

"You couldn't call a cab ump!"..  "Did you star in Weekend at Bernies"?...  and mebbe, 

"I thought only horses sleep standing up!"... "That was higher than a blouse at Mardi Gras!"

And my personal favorite (dangit Victor you've told this one. . Oh well)..  the college coach was on the umpire, griping and grunting nonstop for 6 innings..   he'd come from the dugout again..  escorted him back to the dugout... finally,  threw him outta the game... but,

Manager kept barking, staying in the field.   Ump finally eschewed "GO SOMEWHERE WHERE I CANT SEE YOU!"... And, of course.. 

Then, the manager walked directly to home plate and stood on top of it!

"Can it R2D2"... "You suck Mr. Roboto"... Just ain't got the same intrigue, passion, humor.

Upon further review....

Play ball...

I am human, hear me roar.

Someone suggested MLB hire female umpires.   They're never wrong. MISOGYNIST!  Wasn't me!  'Someone' suggested it!

With all the contention, dissention, present mood of our land, I've truly struggled to write.  I know I know, some may applaud that.

That said..  please don't take away the last bastion to yell, holler at someone without getting blocked on Facebook, ruffling relative feathers, yada.

3 blind mice. 3 blind mice.

Victor, no more mice jokes, you got to go...

Love, Victurd

A little ditty 'bout Jackie and Shadow..

Victor, that ain't it..  it's Jack and Diane.. 

Well... (That's a deep subject)..

Well, Jackie and Shadow are actually bald eagles.  Happy ones.  They live high up in a tree...  

In Big Bear Valley.. which sets inside the San Bernardino National Forest in Southern California. 

They, unwittingly, are the stars in the newest reality show.

Some time ago, I don't remember anything about Shadow and wearin' Bobbie Brooks, don't think she was..

Jackie gonna be, a football star?  Play for the Eagles?  Ahm, no.

The two were suckin' on a chilled herron outside the big trees...  Shadow's sittin' on Jackie's lap, turns his beak out to see...

Jackie says "Hey Shadow, let's run off to the top of that shady tree."

Or, however it happened.

Love and herron, love and herron, go together like a horse and a carriage.. this I tell you brother, you can't have one without the other.

Shadow consented.  They'd been flyin' down the road, tryna loosen their load... ie, wanted to Take It Easy.. you know, Eagles.

Plop plop plop, 3 eggs. Victor, you misogynist, you're gonna catch hell from women for that.  Ok, lemme rephrase.

Her feathers in a dander, on end.. frantic, fear, OUCH, near hatred in her eyes, Shadow then pointed a talon claw at Jackie and screamed, "DAMN YOU!  THIS IS YOUR FAULT!" (Plop, plop, plop. .. or something like that.)

36 days later:  Pip. Pip.

Gladys Knight?

No. Pips are baby pecks that put a small tear in the egg, as if to say, "Lemme outta here!"

Two, greeted the World yesterday.  They are the cutest, ugliest, fuzziest damn things you ever saw!

So..  24/7, they have a cam on them. I trust your Googling skills if you'd like to track them down. You can also look at my Facebook post just before this. (If it's dark-thirty, or, ya can't see the eaglets cause mom or dad are sittin on em, you can 'rewind' to an earlier hour.)

Could be too, ya just ain't into this. I get a peaceful easy feeling you'd simply prefer Sudoku, Fox/CNN, Judge Judy, Aunt Bea and Ope. I'm good with that.

But, Desperado, I could be wrong..  you and the Witchy Woman (MISOGYNIST! AM NOT!) might even wanna Take It To The Limit, drive over them Seven Bridges, get ya a California Hotel, or sumpin like that..    simply to see for yourself, what, you know in these days of Lyin Eyes, ya never know.

Wiki done tells me Bald Eagles ain't really bald. That's derived from an older meaning if the word, "white-headed."

"The sexes are identical in plumage, but females are about 25% larger than males." MISOGYNIST!  AM NOT, THAT WAS WIKI!

Ok, I'll get out of your hair.  I, personally, am fascinated by this, the cam..  and Eagles in general.  They make THE biggest nests of any bird, impressive.

A little ditty 'bout Jackie and Shadow... two American Eagles doin' the best they can..

Forward by Joe Walsh, Don Henley, Glenn Frey, and two Eagle Scouts

Love, Victurd

Bad boy bad boy watcha gonna do..Therapy...

Seeing someone in the aisle of the Piggly Wiggly that makes ya wanna run to 'em, not away from.

Table and chairs really aren't too exciting, but... fill 'em with good friends, family, no reason to keep checking your watch..  the table and chairs become magical. 

A hound's tail, a kitty cat's indifference...

Barney Fife, Weeee Doggies Jed Clampett... Conway, Burnett and also Harvey Korman - the only man to become a zillionaire simply by holding in burst at the seams laughter as long as he could.

Us geezers, running,  actually running in Wally World, after holding in burst at the seams tinkle as long as we could.

A full Mickey D's bag, and, "Hey, they didn't forget nuthin."

A song on the radio (Sirius for you uptown ones) that takes you to a happy time, place, age, along with the faces of who was there, then. Bad boy bad boy whatcha gonna do? SING those damn lyrics, even if they ain't right!)

A photo album, much like the table, chairs above, unfilled, none too exciting.  Fill it. Go back. Yum. A mixture of happy, a pinch of sad, and a note of thanks to whomever took the time to snap and develop the pics.

Among the best presents I ever got (ballglove, 8ish, clock radio, age 9ish).. a simple envelope of family pics a loved one had around the house (71ish), and the specifics of knowing those times musta meant a lot to the giver as well.

Lasagna, Fritos (Chili Cheese or regular, dont matter), a fall off the peel tangerine in fronta me (at least for me anyways, figure you got your own yummy list)..  a grandkid's face, hidden behind a vanilla cone.

24/7 in that it means we're still here (QT and the Awful Waffle are open), but, perhaps the bestest are the pink and light orange hues of sunrise, sunset.

When the key, Fob, EV allows one to go, (almost) the first time, everything.

Waves, hugs, smiles, fist bumps, preceded by the how you thankfully got to know that person.

Friend's list, Facebook, phone contact, even just simply the ones up there in the noggin.

Simple, easy. Elation, exhaustion upon completion of hard.

When your child, grand, friend, buddy, coworker, maybe even boss, asks, "Where ya going?", followed by, "I'm 72, any damn where I wanna."

The ability to sense, restless, are we there yet are we huh huh? And, reply...

OK, OK, OK.. 

But, before ya go... you point out, none of the good above has anything to do with which lever one pulls on election day... what color, orientation, yada yada one is.. where ya came from..  the figures on one's receipt from the bank...

Happy is happy.

If. .

We let it be.

Right John, Paul, George, Ringo?

And if you can't be, with the one you love... love the one you're with... unless, ya done said them 'I do's'. We all understand what makes grass greener.

By Henry Gibson

Love, Victurd