Thoughts........

Hurry........

To me, it's interesting how perspective can change, be altered as we age.  I remember when I was a termite (much younger), walking in a crowd... if someone infronta me was dilly-dallying (NOT to be confused with 'dilly dilly'ing').. I'd pass em.  If they were afflicted, old, yada, I wouldn't.

Driving.  I really ain't never in a hurry.  I gets my blood pressure all raised up when I observe someone who is, does, drive 'in a hurry'... The 'can't wait' to get upon the tail of the next car, does make me quiver... I can't imagine living like that.  Conversely, I know there are folks behind me in traffic, hollerin' out 'Go back to Golden Acres ya dayum geezer'... "The gas pedal is that one on the right ya OG", Pops, whatever.

One love.  She was sooooooooooooo fun to people watch.  She'd pull in the driveway.  The door would fling open (without it being flung back closed), she'd race, AND I MEAN RACE to pee... there tweren't no pettin' the dog, "Hi, how was your day", it was Katy Bar, I gotta pee. Fun. Damn near every time. Of course, musically, I always thoughta Ray Stevens song when she arrived home.......Oh yes they call her the streak, boogity boogity, fastest thing on two feet, boogity boogity.

If we are blessed to live on into our 80's, 90's, the hell is she (we) we gonna do then? Set them tennis balls on the walker afire from kitchen floor friction?  Boogity boogity.

Hurry up and wait.  Baseball Ray.  Now, they clock the time between pitches. You no getty pitch off in, however many seconds, automatic ball.  Games are hella faster.  Where I work.  A bloody Mary or a long island tea, not too long ago, hand mixed. NOPE.  They're in a can now.  Hurry.  We gotta hurry.

Self checkout, WallyWorld. I like to make the sound of a cow herding with buddies in the pasture. Rollin' Rollin' Rollin', though the streams are swollen, keep  them doggies rollin', Rawhide!

Maybe. Maybe baby, the reason us old codgers ain't too fonda hurrry is that, it's like, "Holy crap, I'm 60?".. .Then, "DAMN, 65?".. STOP, STYMIE HALT.   Slow down, ya move too fast, you got to make the morning last just, kicking down the cobblestones, looking for fun and feeling groovy, ba da da ba da ba da, feelin' groovy.

Groovy?  Ya dayum geezer, get with the times!  Be on toppa things.  Don't rain on my parade Grandpa, oh, and btw, the mullet is back!

Hurry to the barber.  Please?

Do you hurry?  Church.  Sermon going on a bit too long?  Kid's music program.. plan your path to the exit halfway through?  Sex? VICTOR!  Well hell, it just seems sooooooooo many people are in a hurry, can't wait, get the hell outta my way, mebbe they hurry through that too.

Admission - there is one place I get antsy, in a hurry. The golf course. Slow play bugs me. Probably why I suck so much.  Ready golf.  Go, hit ball.  I know I should take more time, Eh, whatever.  Band camp, long, long ago.  Work golf tournament.  One guy in our group, a decent dude, mebbe sometimes he'd exhibit a bit too much confidence in himself.. (yeah, I'm talking like he mighta stood in the mirror on mornings admiring himself).. anyways........ HE. WAS. THE. SLOWEST. GOLFER. EVER.

It was painful to see, play alongside. Ya wanted to holler "COME ON, HIT THE DAMN BALL" but ya didn't. So, I just started humming as he approached the ball.. you know, songs, like In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida baby, Tubthumping, might get me through as he teed it up, hit.  Three of the foursome whispered about his slowness.  All complicated by the fact we had to endure his addressing the ball, 100 to 110 times that day....... continued.....

We were the last group to finish...  All the rest of our work buddies were there on the deck, finished, prolly into their 3rd or 4th beer.  It was still fairly early morn... there was mist still on the ground.  As we walked toward the resta our gang, one'a the beer drinkers looked us up and down, then hollered "Why ain't (enter guy who looks in mirror too much's name here) pantlegs wet? (Us three whisperers, peeked, bottom of our pantlegs, soaked, his weren't.)  Some smartass, maybe a blogger, i ain't sure, answered "His pants dried off while he was addressing the ball."  Message delivered.

Hurry up and wait.

Slow down vacation.  Quit growing so fast ya dadgum grandkids.  

Let's chase each other 'round the room tonight... we'll play the games we played, on our wedding night...    except, we'll use our walkers eh?  That'd make it last longer!

Microwave.  Roomba. Air Fryer. Foreman Grill.  Alexa, do it for me, hurry wouldya?

Nah. Let's take the backroads to Luckenbach.  Red rover red rover, come on over (at your liesure).  Put me back on hold please, I really like that song.

"He who sows hurry, reaps indigestion." Robert Louis Stevenson

HOLY CRAPOLA, OUTTA ROLAIDS.  I GOTTA RUN TO WALGREEN.  BACK SOON!

Love, Victurd