Kaleidoscope.....

Brilliance.....  a long tube shaped optical toy containing mirrors and loose, colorful bits of glass or plastic... whenya look thru it, and rotate the tube.. the mirrors reflect the materials into an endless variety of changing, symmetrical designs. (I didn't realize symmmmetrical had two M's, seems kinda asymmetrical, or mebbe even assemetrical.)

Life, it is that.  Brilliant.  We begin it, we look up, down, all around... and we old farts, do the same, staring down in wonder at the new little turd... takes a couple months after we realize he/she can't really see a dayum thing, then they finally can focus.  That's quickly followed by their first smile..  then their 67th poop (loud crying), 90th bellyache (s'more crying, "Gee honey, let's have another")... the dreaded fear of that first glance of someone that ain't mom, dad, brother, sister (tears, crying, "Calgon, take me away!").. 

I don't enjoy relating vision stories and in no way am I meaning to poke fun as I have way too many friends that have visual impairment in varying degrees.  I really more intend to mean "our reaction to" things in and around our lives, first time, 20th time, and on and on.

Grandchild three (granddaughter 2, Bella) was a real buttscooter.  Two story apartment, before she could walk, clad in diapers and a t shirt, would navigate stairs, landing, stairs on her butt, barely touching any of 'em, top to bottom faster'n a Nolan Ryan fastball to home.  Made me kinda tear up, wanting to open the door to the outside and proudly proclaim "My granddaughter is THE FASTEST BUTTSCOOTER there ever was!"

She's also the one, somewhere between age 2 and 3, sitting in the kitchen alone........ whilst her babysitting 60 something grandfather and her two older siblings were watching a Spongebob episode for the 6th time that day.  Do you call it babysitting if it's your own grandkid?  Discolor me then if you do because I did. TBC

In spite of, having owned a really small business (forced to calling the shots, ha, my ex was the other employee), having gained way too much experience in several menial jobs in way too many fields... including which was overseeing over a hunnerd 1st thru 5th grade snotnosers a day when I taught elementary PE in the dino days... I WAS NEVER AT EASE "babysitting" my own grands.  RING. "Where you guys at?" Grandpa, we just left ten minutes ago... "Oh, OK, have fun, they're doing good." Click.

That's when I heard the faint voice in the kitchen, the little buttscoot champ, say, "Uh oh." And that's when I ran into the kitchen...at eye level I saw the fridge door opened...behind that table sat the buttscoot champ, completely covered in red, thanks in large part to the now empty bottle of strawberry syrup that was laying next to her.  An hour later, and a entire roll of Bounty, a bath complete with yellow squeeky ducks, you could hardly tell anything had happened. RING. "We'll be home in ten minutes."  Seemed like an hour.  

Door opens, "MOM, BELLA DUMPED THE WHOLE BOTTLE OF STRAWBERRY SYRUP ON THE KITCHEN FLOOR".. Four parental eyes quickly pierced thru me, followed by footsteps to the kitchen, you could hardly tell.  Whew.

Which brings us to this past Thursday... two days ago.  The former buttscooter, now 9, in town for the long weekend thanks for Parent Teacher Conferences, no school.  Staying at Granny's (my ex)... a text "Bella would like to do something with you." I hadta work till dark, was meeting an old college buddy for dinner after... had a 1pm golf game scheduled for Friday.. Victor this is boring.  Anyways, was decided "IHop for breakfast, trip to airport to watch planes takeoff" Friday (yesterday).  Victor, you're a tightwad. Uh huh. You been here how many years and you're just now getting that?

Hi Bell! We ain't doing the traditional IHOP breakfast with crayons to color on the menu.. we're going to drive thru Mickey's... go to Union Station, then, go do that Kaleidoscope thing at Crown Center.  Victor, you can't walk. You're nuts.  Geezer scooter packed, ready in trunk.

McDonald's BOGO app sucks half the time, of course, it did this time.. two (full priced) sausage McMuffins later, we're rolling.   16 miles, trunk opened, 7 underbreath curse words figuring out how to uncollapse (that a word) the geezer scooter... we're off the see the Wizard.  No, that ain't it, Union Station. I fogot to mention the part I damn near choked to death (the driver's side window of my 23 yr old car works worse than the Mickey's app) so, when I opened the door to grab the parking machine ticket, I almost had to ask buttscooter to give me CPR thanks to the seatbelt around my neck.

WOW this, WOW that.  It really is a unique, impressive building. An eclectic mix of a Titanic display, Science City, Miniature train display (free, and closed damnit), the REAL train station part... and a hunnerd and fitty folks with tattoos on ninety percent of their person, in line for the Tattoo Convention in between it all. Titanic ."(too much), Science City (WAY too much)... So, "here buttscooter Bell", as I lifted her over this rope thingy, you wanna look around in here? A store with all things Kansas City inside... she opted for that after i pushed her, jk. A few minutes later," SIR, we don't open until 10."  Trivial point, but ok.

We stared up at the I aint never seen a ceiling this high until our necks hurt... then took the L (glass enclosed walkway) over the roads from Union Station to Crown Center. I am gonna copy and paste this "Can you tell us how to get to Kaleidoscope?" because we got lost for over an hour... Found, asked, a minimum of 16 employees "Can you tell us how to get to Kaleidoscope?" 

We, buttscooter and me in geezer cart, thought we were close once.  Worker spoke no English.. it didn't help that I finally learned "El Bano" in Mehico is where you pee, because I'd already peed...she did finally figure out "Kaleidoscope" on floor tres, led us to an elevator specifically for wheelchairs..  Thanked her again and again.  Nope. Wouldn't go to floor tres.  She came back, again and again, finally, uno had to be punched in.  We made it there.  "Can you tell us how to get to Kaleidoscope?"  Yeah it's on the third floor. Go this way, that way, thru Halls, then left, quick right, up, down, good luck.

We FINALLY made it to the 3rd floor.  Buttscooter had to have had 9,000 steps in by now, I was tired and I was riding.  "Can you tell us how to get to Kaleidoscope?" Yes, it's across the street.  Do you know how to get to the Weston? No.  Left, down. Up.. over after the wooden pillar.. out the door then down the road, left.. then right... OK OK, thanks.

We finally Kallapsed infronta Kaleidoscope ten minutes after our scheduled start time.  Are we too late?  Nah, all  you missed was standing in line.  Whew. Follow me. Thank goodness.  A fun, free (of course it was Victor) hands on artsy thing for fellow little buttscooters, all provided gratus, by Hallmark.

Fun, then boredom.  We headed for the exit.  The exit road was a funny (haha) little snotnose thing with ten, count em, ten very sharp turns to navigate the geezer scooter in, and turns in geezer scooter are like having a limo in a cul-de-sac, it ain't easy.  I'd become fairly accomplished at turning, backing up into elevator doors held open by the wonderful Bella, we finally made it.

Say, can you tell me how to take the L back to Union Station? No, I'm sorry.  Three more employees, I finally, under breath,said to hell with it.. Come on Bell, we're going outside.  I GPS'ed Union Station in my phone.. the first step was "A half mile to Main Street, then right."

With two stops for poor Bella to rest (Grandpa having to pee..... badly).. we finally made it to the top of Main Street.  Signal Hill I think they call it. Buttscooter had to be up to close to 15,000 steps, I worried about the battery on the geezermobile. Around the corner, no Union Station, but HEY, there's the WWI monument (it's across the street from Union Station), come on Bell, hop on.  We had a downhill, literally 3/4 of a mile long trek.  Buttscooter had left cheek on geezermobile, Grandpa, right buttcheek.

We laughed, rode the breeze and the hill, laughed and rode s'more.  Four crosswalks and an Olympic downhill later (not to mention almost getting hit by a vendor box truck backing up, we finally made it into Union Station.  We both went to pee. To car. Trunk opened. Four curse words later I had the geezer scooter compacted to fit in trunk.  Fears of suffication were thwarted as my driver window finally went down for the first time today, enabling me to use charge card to pay for parking.

I wish I had more neater, nicer things within this blog, but that's it. Sorry.  We had fun, we were beat but we'll never forget it. Bella home safely, me to the golf course. On fumes after.  One beer at home, abed a very short time after.

Kaleidoscopes are really brilliant, but all the turning and rotation will wear you out. It takes longer to get to Kaleidoscope from Union Station than it does to get from the bottom of the mountain on Maui to Hana.  More turns too if you can believe that.

Good time with the buttscooter........... I'm gonna scoot on outta here..

Love, Victurd

Sit. Stay. Lay down. Fetch.......... It's the little things......... Care.......

Don't even try, there tain't no rhyme, reason to tie it all together....  such, is/are, the cobwebs of a wrinkly old man's brain.

My first thought was....... old dog, new tricks, as in people.  Every Google I Googled talked about old dogs, new tricks. (Not human, which, is what I was aiming for).   Meet Levi, a big ole' black lab who looks as if he stuck his whiskers in a pile of fireplace ashes... ie, white on the end... aging... (TBC_)

Levi is 11. He's in a joint (Best Friends) where they attempt to adopt out older hound pooches.  Prior, he served a term in prison (not what you think.) It was a program where the inmates worked with hounds to teach basic manners and cues.  Levi was a star pupil, picking up tricks easily, frothing actually, to learn more.  If he ain't learning, he becomes bored, rambunctious, as in, uh oh, watch out.

There was a video of Levi running this obstacle course doing really cool stuff he'd recently learned, followed by a treat. You go Levi, I hope the right home appears soon. (Shout out to my ex... old, big dogs don't find homes often. As such, often euthanized. Such was a rumor at a nearby shelter.  Her, hubby, now proud owners of Gracie, a Shephard mix, enjoying freedom, certainly snacks, goodies, attention, and nifty big ole fenced in yard. Cool.) 

Real people.  It took a lot of searching to learn, find, anything on old people learning new tricks. I found an article where a Dr. Rachel Wu, a psychologist was interviewed.  I listed her name NOT to guard me from plagiarism, but, because it's a cool name to say.. Rachel Wu... Rachel Wu.. Rachel Wu.

Why's it so hard for older folks to learn new things?  I ain't gonna use the " around her quotes, rather, regular ole regular type (vs the ital question). Dig?  Thx.  We are busy. Life is fast. We don't give ourselves time to learn.  A baby is given a year to come up with their first word, we give ourselves ten minutes, and if it ain't learned, we move on. (Dr. Wu didn't say ain't, that was me.)

What then, in addition to them seemingly having more time, are the differences us in how kid learn and adults learn?  Kids see something new, there's curiosity.  We can try to emulate, but it's harder for us.  Also, 'scaffolding' as in, kids have a lot of help, parents, teachers, caregivers, neighbors, et al...  we usually have to pay someone to help us learn, and, it's even hard to find someone. TBC

Fixed mindset.  If we don't know how to do something, we feel it may be impossible to ever learn it.  We don't say to babies, I don't think you'll ever learn to walk, so I'm not going to teach you.  Victor, this is getting very boring.  Sorry, kinda.

And another thing, kids are allowed to make mistakes... if we do, we fear being thought of as senile or something so we give up quite easily rather than be thought of as that. Kids can learn a lot of thing simultaneously, us adults, not so much, we need blinders (to pay attention, coupled with all the external things in our lives.)

This is Victor, not Ms. Wu. (Reminds me of that Love Potion #9 song, "I took my troubles down to Madam Wu, you know that gypsy with the gold capped tooth, she's got a pad down at 34th and Vine....."  VICTOR, it's Rue, Madam Rue, and you should be ashamed for referring to Dr. Wu as such.  Sorry Doc, kinda, sorta, I am.

About kids and simultaneously (not to mention your boredom with this blog) AND, learning stuff.......  My son lived in an apartment complex and there was really cool family, happened to be Hispanic..with five or so young'ns..  (age 6 to 10ish) that usually were outside playing when I pulled in.  They were exceedingly nice to me... ""Hi Sir, how are you doing today?" and we'd chit chat for awhile.... then, as I turned to walk in, it was back to EsPanol and I was alway amazed by their combined fluency and age.  Young kids, new tricks, us frosty tipped geezers, maybe not so much.  

Little things.   Loom large in life.  Like those kids. Much we take for granted.  There are too many little things to count we place in our basket of life. Kids, pets, family, neighbors on our back deck.. perhaps lanwchaired in the cul-de-sac.. ball games, movie night, laughing at the Three Stooges, Tim Conway, Carol Burnett... any, everything of our liking. Small talk. Sweet nothings that are everything.

Finally, a little bit about caring.  What better than caring. A friends name came up in discussion recently..  "Haven't seen so-and-so of late... you?"  I've heard their mate is not doing very well... needing constant attention so they can't really get away.

THIS. AMAZES. ME.  Sadly, as we get to the age of old dogs, time and again we have friends, loved ones, going thru similar.  It is very easy for us to breeze thru life and not stop and think, pray, say, "God Bless" to them, and their mate.

So............ inbetween pickleball......... learning Portuguese....  making pottery, whadever.......

Let's periodically stop... close our eyes and think of those amazing folks living devotion, behind the scenes.

Love, Victurd

Nothin' from nothin' leaves nothin'

Ya ever wake up and not be able to think of anything to blog about?  Victor, they don't blog.  You're the only one that continually get up, writes, shows your hiney, so to speak.

What are your plans today?  Nothin', whadda you gonna do?

Nothing days are among my favorites in life.  My father, with good intent I believe, suggested at times I was a follower.  He'd hand me a paintbrush and a bucket of paint, point to a room in the house, and make promise to pay me probably way too much to do it to it.  I'd be ten dips into the bucket, a buddy's car would stop out front, gone.... I was gone.   Follower.  HAD to be involved, there, with, tag along, shotgun (seat) preferred.

Nowadays, I like nothing.

She tried to speak but nothing came out.......  He'll stop at nothing to win....   She knows nothing about the plan...    It costs nothing...  There's nothing in my pockets...  That movie was nothing special...   I got nothing. 

You don't do nothing around the house.  That's a double negative.  I went from 'I do' to nothing.   The car came to a sudden stop because there is no gas in the tank, nothing.  Gas can? I got nothing.  AAA?  Nope, nothing.

Not a creature was stirring.  Psychology Today says "2 reasons to spend time thinking about nothing'.  I wonder if they're hiring.

Otis drank, jailed himself, nothing an officer had to do.  Barney, occasionally hollered for those around to "NIP IT, NIP IT", say nothing.  Andy often parented with Opie by saying nothing, allowing Ope to come up with the right answer.  Post Andy Griffith family meal cooked by Aunt Bea, nothing left on the plates.  The theme music, nothing but whistling.

Much ado about nothing.  (Today's climate?)  All for naught.  Next to nothing.  Nothing to sneeze at.  Nothing to wipe said sneeze.  Eww nothings.

The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing.  Socrates.

The cost of this blog, rightfully, nothing.  The content of this blog, usually nothing.  Nothing personal.  

She was stuck in a nothing job.  I wonder if they're hiring.

Bupkus. (I've never heard that, AI recommended). Zip.  Nada. Nil. 

"The truth is you don't know what is going to happen tomorrow.  Life is a crazy ride, and nothing is guaranteed."  Eminem

Raise your hand if you've ever skinny dipped?  WAIT, not quite that high.  Ever been carless?  Penniless?  Mateless?...  CAN. YOU. IMAGINE.  HOMELESS?

You miss 100% of the shots you don't take.  100% of short putts don't go in.  Nothing but net.  Every day, individuals wake up entitled to nothing. No one owes them anything.

Nothing.  After loss, nothing and everything is painful.

Retirement.  We all (Except Moffitt) live for retirement.  The joy, quest, sanctuary of nothing.  Then, we go to bed asking "Whereinthehell did all the time go?"

I now have an affinity for nothing days.  You can call it selfish if you like, nothing would bug me if you did.

He went to pee. Nothing.  Prostate checked recently?

Victor, really, nothing to write home about in this blog.... and...  you forgot music, nothing about that......

Money for nothing.  Nothing else matters.  I found a site with 100 songs with nothing in the title.  Nah. Nothing special about any of em.

I'll try to blog better tomorrow... Nothing promised.

Besides, I redacted all the really good stuff. 

Love, "I know nothing" Sgt Victurd Schultze

State of the Union.........

Writing this, this morning....  I'll compare it to the guy having lunch at work in the cafeteria, sitting, visiting, laughing, joking with a coworker, female variety (happens to be exceedingly attractive) - and all of a sudden his wife pops in to surprise him and join him for lunch..  the urge (much like the feeling after writing the title) to say "It's not what you think!"

This ain't, red/blue... "you're an idiot".. "what are you, stupid?"  TASTES GREAT.  LESS FILLING.

Headache, vomit, upchuck (Victor, they're the same thing.... eh whadever).. No, no, no, not just no's, but hells no's.

 

Nanny nanny boo boo, stick your head in political poo.......

Erection problems here in Kansas City..... (Victor?  Have you tried Walgreens? I keep seeing these ads on Facebook that "Walgreens is hiding some kinda ED meds that are like .97 cents a pill"... worth looking.)  Ahm, no.  The erection problem is WHERE the Royals will play in 2032.

The Chiefs followed the yellow brick road "over there"...  They (Royals) have discussed, KS, Downtown, KC North..but ain't decided.  I'll prolly be in an urn anyways, but, wanted to update you on our State of the Union. Frankly, I don't care, as long as it ain't Nashville.

In the meantime, my most recent project was a mail in campaign to the Royals BEGGING (complaining) because "There is absolutely NO place, in the Standing Room Only Area to put our beers down, no holders, no rail, no yada, zip."  It worked.  Thanks to our efforts,They're moving the outfield fences in, and as such, it will create 80 new Drinkrail spots. It was hard work, but nothing good comes from slackers.

Back to the Chiefs.  Next project, I'm suggesting a GoFundMe for them.  In spite of somehow hiding half of Patrick Mahomes salary, they are still HELLA over the salary cap.  Call it what you want.. ('Reach for Veach'...he's our GM...  'Reid's Needs'...  'Keep Patrick upright, I mean hell, he's got a bum leg now')

How many panels are on a soccer ball?

I'm trying to learn this crap before 650,000 soccer lovers from other countries invade our town for the World Cup games here this Summer.  That 650,000 is 120,000 more than live in KC now.  I canardly wait for $46 Coronas, and 3 for $99 tacos.

Thanks Google (32 panels on a soccer ball.)  Now I wonder whatinthehell is "EXTRA TIME? "Victor, as much as you abused your body over the years, your extra time started about ten years ago.  BITE ME.

The Chiefs have spent boo koo bucks to reconfigure GEHA Arrowhead Stadium to make it more conducive for soccer.  I don't understand, why would you reconfigure a stadium simply to appease some drunks?  Ya know?

Thanks AI. I guess 'Extra time' happens after a tie in knockout matches (Is this WWE or FIFA?).. an additional 30 minutes (two fitteen minute halves).. if still tied, then the game is decided by "penalty shots" HOLY CRAP? THEY SHOOT EM?  That's bound to bring ICE to KC... VICTOR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! STOP! You promised!  Oh yeah, sorry. Penalty shots are a one on one attempts to kick the ball into the goal. So, no guns?  No guns. Whew thanks.

I'm still learning soccer. I see they issue a Yellow Card for things like "taking off their shirt in celebration" (And Victor don't EVEN ask when/where are the Women's World Cup games, ya pervert.)  Guilty, I guess. Hell, ain't many years left, can a fella have some fun?

Actually, kinda proud, excited for the World Cup.  Even though it's an additional million plus stool flushes a day (lotta poop), hotels will be full from here to Joplin to Columbia to Des Moines to Salina.  We very much welcome the base camps of Algeria, Argentina, England and the Netherlands.  

SIDE NOTE.  As much as I gripe, complain about our Kansas City Star newspaper, the dudes that work there are the bomb.  If I see, read an article I highly enjoy, I email the author. 100% of the time, I get a very nice reply. Recently, I'd written an email to a Sport's writer who had done crazy research on the history of soccer here in KC... I do enjoy soccer and tease about it... but this guy's article had me sitting on edge reading...  I wrote and thanked him accordingly.

The day after everything went to hell in Puerto Vallarta, I received a very nice "Thank You" from the author of the above article.  It was written at 3:57am Pacific Time... I learned later (via KC Star article) he and his wife were stranded at the Airport in Puerta Vallarta.  I understand food was scarce, and at one point they were all forced out on the tarmac.  He never mentioned any of that.

The State of the Union?  Thankfully, most folks are really really nice, like the sportswriter dude.

I know, I need work on myself.  Ok, I'm off to learn about offsides, handball and accidental handballs.

Play ball... or whatever they say.  Fun, niceness should be our GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAALLLLLLL GOOOOOOOAAAAALLLLLL GOOOOOOAAALLLLLLL!

Have a great day... I'm headed to Walgreens for............. ah...   cough drops, yeah, that's it, cough drops.

Love, Victurd

I've gotta hand it to you...........

Hi, my name is Victurd (as I extend my hand out for a handshake.)  It ain't a meeting of the mind...I guess it could lead to that, but, it's a meeting of strangers..  There's a range... you know... somewhere between 'wet fish' and 'you're breaking my dayum hand'... nonetheless, an icebreaker... (Side note... QUICK!  Whaddaya say to open a meeting of folks that don't know each other but are gonna be together for a long meeting? "Heavy Penguins!"  Yeah, as an Icebreaker)

Victor, I'll hand it to you, that was dumb.....  So, the accompanying element of surprise to you... you've never been here before eh?

Kiddygarden teachers everywhere are greatly thankful for hands, as, they're a learning tool.  Not ony do we learn one to ten, them fingers learn us up/down, in/out, rain/sun with games sharpening our fine motor skills like 'the Itsy Bitsy Spider.'

We pickup those dang wooden hammers with our hands, pound them pegs, readying ourselves for a lifetime of labor.  In life, there's all sizes, kinds = them shaped figures (triangle, rectangle, square, circle, star, yada) that we pickup with our hands and attempt to place 'em in the corresponding sized hole in the box - welcome, foretell, future engineers, designers, artists, and mebbe even assist us in the dating world, picking Goldilocks ("just right")......

If it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all......

Wait... that ain't what I meant.  If it weren't for hands, we'd have no luck eating, writing, dressing, working, etc.  Victor, sure, hands are important, but, ya don't need em for soccer... You wanna impress me, then how are you gonna get the ball back inbounds when it goes out on the side?  Uh huh, what I thought.

Our hands helps communicate - via writing, signaling, high fiving, waving, letting Taco Via know ya want three please, and, as our President examples, a one fingered method to say goodbye to someone. VICTOR! You have TDS! High five, er, I mean mebbe.

We pitch, catch, roll, shoot, nock a bow, find that trigger on the BB Gun, paper rock scissors, see if the chili is ready "nope, too cold" or "YEEOUUCCH! I think it is.?  You wanna impress me Junior?  Thread this needle.

Employees must wash hands before returning to work.  EWW if they didn't.  They help us wipe... mind outta gutter... i meant like wiping the kitchen counter when chili drops on it, but yeah, I guess that too.  VICTOR, you're told this one!  SORRY, not. I laughed for two days when there was a Facebook video of the 5 year old who was running away... had his little backpack of goods trekking down the sidewalk... mom, coolly, calmly, standing on the porch, hollered out.."Good Luck... I hope you find someone that will wipe your butt for you"

With our hands we make love..   Gee whiz, I'm going have to start hanging out with folks that don't live in the gutter! I MEAN, you know, how you lift your hands, and using the thumbs touching at the bottom, and the index fingers at the top, we form a heart! And of course I was teasing, you can prolly show me a hunnerd 'perve' example in the stupid blog's past.  Oh well, the pay ain't much either.

AI is limited (don't tell 'em) as they say there are (only) 5 things our hands do.. .they grip, touch, manipulate, communicate and caress.  Eh, I reckon that covers it...  It would be tough to imagine a life without the ability of our hands.  Deaf folks even 'talk' with their hands.

They (hands) gots 27 bones, 34 muscles, 48 nerves... phalanges, metacarpals, carpals.  They help us get lids off... they (using two of ten) help the hippies hold their smoke..  How would we EVER remove our boogers? VICTOR, I DAMN NEAR LEFT WHEN YOU DISSED MY PRESIDENT, COOL IT!

Speakin' o boogers... whaddaya do if you ain't got no Kleenex. Be truthful.  Ya flick em?  They're UNDER the carseat ain't they!  VICTOR!  Well, no tissue, it is an issue.

Oh there's hands in music. The Beatles wanna hold em.. The Georgia Satellites begya to Keep Your Hands to Yourself, Grandma's hands... Hands across the water.  Many.  Hands cause applause, or something like that.  My cousin Darrell can clap one handed. Damndest thing you ever saw.  Fast too.

Pass the beans.  Hands up, and hand over the money. Please stand and place your hand on your heart for our National Anthem.  Itchy itchy rash? That's what hands are for.  Author's write, Boxers right, Drivers 10 and 2.

Raise your hand, speak now or forever hold you peace.  They still do that?  Ever heard someone speak?  I ain't, would be kinda fun to hear.  VICTOR, SLAP! Oh yeah, forgot you can do that with hands too, and don't you forget it Will.

Holding hands, ain't that sweet.  VICTOR, don't be pervy.. I AIN'T.  That ain't even making it to first base... it's kinda like just leaving the batter's box.  I do admit to really really admiring older folks, together fore'er, holding hands as they walk.

I'm sure you've seen how the shop teacher (who survived battle with a band saw) orders four beers at the ballgame.  Make love (Victor you already did that) not war, Peace sign.

Some things we ain't even aware we do with our hands.... gesture whilst we talk..  fingertips together gesturing calm...  twiddle our thumbs..  feel a surface... test the temp..  fix our hair... 

We also...... make puppets....... muffins.....  knead bread...  touch our chin...  tug our ear... constantly touch our hair (I'm accused of being misogynist what the hey, why do women do that?  BECAUSE YOU'RE A PIG VICTOR.... no, I mean why do some always touch their hair?  Like I said, OINK.

The hands of time tell me I better leave.

Just a song before I go........

No, that ain't it.

Just a moment of silence, before I go......  In honor of........

Patrick..... no hands.  If it weren't for his buddy Spongebob, he'd never be able to hold, eat, a Krabby Pattie. I wonder if he can wipe his purple booty?  GOODBYE VICTOR.

(Waving) Love, Victurd

Act naturally......

Damn you're old.... which, could also be spelled, written "Damn your old, because, uh huh, I am too."

I DID NOT know this song wasn't a Beatles original... 'twas written by Johnny Russell and Voni Morrison (not Van!) and, published for Buck Owens and the Buckaroos in 1963...  Two full years before Ringo got his grubby hands on it, the Beatles recorded it and sang in on the ("Really Big") Ed Sullivan Show!

They're gonna put me in the movies
They're gonna make a big star out of me
We'll make a film about a man that's sad and lonely
And all I gotta do is act naturally

The song is obviously about a jilted lover... and I think I remember hearing it's tough to act naturally after same.

Well, I bet you I'm gonna be a big star
Might win an Oscar, you can never tell
The movie's gonna make me a big star
'Cause I can play the part so well

Come on Baby, let's do the Twist (which ole Chubby sang a few years earlier).. but, let's twist this around a tad. When is it hard to actually act naturally?  Silent fart on an elevator... I'd be sweatin', FULLA guilt. You're 12. The pitcher throws a curveball. The first one ya ever seen.

Well, I hope you come and see me in the movies
Then I'll know that you will plainly see
The biggest fool that ever hit the big time
And all I gotta do is act naturally

A lttie snotnose, first time on the diving board. I LOVE WATCHING THAT.  Trepidation comes naturally.  The first time ya meet your future inlaws.  Put a tent around it, I dunno about you, but I was shaking like crazy. (Basta's, said lovingly, made cookies, but, on purpose used salt insteada sugar just to see whether I'd act naturally, or not.)

We'll make the scene about a man that's sad and lonely
And begging down upon his bendin' knee
I'll play the part and I won't need rehearsing
All I have to do is act naturally

Sure, the news "We're having a baby!".. but... whadda 'bout my buddy and his wife... their trip to see the Doc and the Sonogram... "Now, there's the arms, there's the legs.. here's the head, and, over here is the other one." How do you behave after that huh? Ya run to Sears cause they have everything, but, now ya gotta buy double.

Well, I bet you I'm gonna be a big star
Might win an Oscar, you can never tell
The movie's gonna make me a big star
'Cause I can play the part so well

You're fired.  I want a divorce.  You're zipper is down. And how do you act natural when you have an itchy itchy rash?  The first time ya drove.  Imagine being dyslexic, walking to the stage in your cap and gown, "oh sh*t, which way is it?"

Well, I hope you come and see me in the movies

Then I'll know that you will plainly see
The biggest fool that ever hit the big time
And all I gotta do is act naturally

Hearing you got the job. Hearing you didn't get the job.  Getting old and not hearing.  LOOK! A THOUSAND DOLLARS ON MY SCRATCH OFF TICKET! Excuse me while I kiss the sky!

We're breaking up..mom, dad, I'm gonna come live in the basement.  Honey? Some excitement! My folks are building a brand spankin new house, construction starts tomorrow - it'll be ready in six months and they're gonna come stay with us in the meantime.

Ya wanna (wink wink).?. "Nope".  Damnit darnit.

It's January..  You overdid it a tad for Christmas.  Of course, the washer goes out.  The hot water heater too. (WHY, do they call it a hot water heater?) The computer on the car goes out... Little Jimmy, now living in the basement, wants fitty for groceries.

All we gotta do is, act naturally.

THE BOSS SAYS.............  "About your vacation next week."  or, Salary review time, "We're excited to get all of our employees up to industry standard, the problem is, you're already there." (I acted pretty naturally until the 12th year I heard that)

Let's have another baby? (Acting naturally, "How bout we just practice instead?")  He really won the election?  VICTOR!  Well hell, ain'tya gotta practice vitriol?

You pass gas.... then you question that. VICTOR! Eh, happens.  A wayward text or email.  Tripping. Mistakenly waving at a stranger.  "Ladies and gentlemen, we're expecting some turbulence ahead............

You get your FIRST Social Security Check! Like clockwork, midnight, third Wednesday of the month... backflip, backflip, how can i act naturally? I ain't workin, but, I getta check every month!.. ... then a buddy asks "Whatsup?" "Nothin' but the rent, hamburger, coffee, orange juice, clothes, utlities, car repairs." (Toldya you shoulda extended your car warranty.)

It's all Sir Isaac Newton's fault. "For every action, there's an equal and opposite reaction."

Yes, but how so do we do that naturally?

This was lame, sorry, but par for the course allows you to act naturally.

Love, Victurd

I've never eaten guacamole........

Before... I say, I say, Before.. you say WTH?  You have GOT to be kidding.  Are you crazy?

I'll give you the Phil Collins answer......

Well you can tell everyone I'm a down disgrace, Drag my name all over the place, I don't care anymore.

Holy guacamole Victor, it'd be interesting to peek at the dayum GPS destination of your brain on this blog.

I ain't real sure yet.  One of the first things I read this morning was the story of Alysa Liu, a 20 year old cutie patootey that just became the first American in 24 years to win the Gold Medal in Figure Skating in the Olympics.

Victor, granted, that is special, but, there has been a long, long line of "cutie patootey US Figure Skaters".  And, 'cutie patootey' sounds kinda misogynist don'tya think?

Holy guacamole, I guess I get it... in the day and age of 'those files', the Me Too movement, that, I get it. BUT... can one say 'cutie patootey', meaning, from my stinky feet, fulla spunk, a livewire, incredible, welcoming smile,  complimentary without it being labeled a misogynist?  And, I think your question, in spite of the 24 year gap since out last Gold Medal winner - should be, "What makes her so special, in a long, long line of special skaters?

Well, she was retired the three years previously. VICTOR, she's 20?

Well you can tell everyone I'm a down disgrace, Drag my name all over the place, I don't care anymore.

Alysa first 'went to work' (laced up them ice skates) as a five year old. At age 9, she took 7th place in the Central Pacific Regionals.  Age 10, she became the youngest skater ever to win an International competition, winning the US Championship.

She went, here, there, everywhere (CA, Bangkok, NY, Poland, Estonia, Vegas, Toronto, Detroit, Greensboro, Bejing, Norwood, MA, Germany, Vancouver, and hunnerds of rinks around the world) and won, dang near everywhere.

At the ripe old age of 17, she announced her retirement from the sport.  ARE. YOU. CRAZY?  Well you can tell everyone I'm a down disgrace, Drag my name all over the place, I don't care anymore.

For 12 years, her life was, get up, go skate, come home, go to bed, get up, do again. (With, uh huh, education thrown in.)  "Feel I lived up to my end of the bargain.  Many times, it wasn't enjoyable."

Three years, later, she, being a normal kid again, went skiing with other normal kids.  The adrenaline rush was strong, similar to skating. "Wait, let me get on the ice, see what it feels like."  Holy guacamole, it musta felt good. This time though (TBC)

Skating would fit into her life, not the other way around.  Her own music. choreography, structure. Stop chasing approval, start chasing connection.

You know, you know, you know my name. NO DAMNIT, that ain't.  I needta change the name of this damn blog to "Lyrics keep sneaking in."  You know the rest of the cutie patootey story.

Obits.  NO!  Not cutey patootey!  I find obits, strangely, thereapuetic.  A lady who'd had a blessed life.  Travel the world.  Working in schools helping children. Great marriage, kids, then, MS set in.  Mice and men.  Undaunted, she continued to love and live... they listed TV shows and magazines she enjoyed in her final years.

I enjoy amazing human stories, and sounds as if she was an amazing human.  I will admit, I reach frustration with a baby affliction but man oh man, when i read some'a the things people must live with, I feel like I should be a "whackamole" as in, SHUT UP VICTOR, your life is blessed, and.  IT IS!

The next person (obits)... Horrific auto accident 21 years into her life (51 years ago), left her paralyzed and wheelchair bound.. yet, it was inscribed her life was defined by unyielding resilience, positivity and faith. She finished her degree, even got a Masters in Social Work.......... and, a lifetime spent as an advocate for disability rights.  In fact, thanks to an article about her was the impetus for a nursing home reform bill that allowed other Kansans with disabilities to live independently and manage their own care.

The cutie patootey, the beautiful ladies with MS and paralysis, I care about.

Guacamole, not so much.

Well you can tell everyone I'm a down disgrace, Drag my name all over the place, I don't care anymore.

Love, Victurd

Advice........

OH VICTOR, PLEASE NO?!!!

I ain't givin' no advice.... One more day perusing, juggling the 3 "Dear So-And-So" advisors our local rag employs here in KC:  Annie... Abby... and Carolyn...

Witchi Tai Tai, kimarah, Whoa Ron-nee Ka
Whoa Ron-nee Ka, Hey-ney, hey-ney, no-wah
Witchi Tai Tai, kimarah, Whoa Ron-nee Ka
Whoa Ron-nee Ka, Hey-ney, hey-ney, no-wah

What a spirit Spring is bringing round my head, 

makes me feel glad that I'm not dead.

Sorry.... all that ain't got nuthin to do with this blog... it was just rattling around my brain, so, wrote it... sang it (you're welcome that I ain't got sound).. and it was about Spring.  I hate Winter, love Spring.......... so that.

Dear Annie..  This (letter to Annie) first one was really depressing.  A gal friend of a guy who's married with a child.. guy has historical pattern of addictions.. meth, heroin, alcohol... she's had to break into his house a couple times when he overdosed (3 yr old home, uncaring wife was at work).. Wanted to call Child Protective Services, never did...  then, he later 'came on to her', she feared rape... "What do I do?" (DUH!)

I think any of us could be Annie on that one. "Get a protective order...CPS exists to assess and protect children when parents cannot or will not.  Making that call isn't betrayal... then, step away."

Dear Abby.  On second thought, the letter to Abby (too) was depressing (boring too, not newsworthy) and by gollly we have CNN, FOX, Facebook, X, Instagripe, all that crap - we don't need no stinking badges... oops... no, it's "We don't need no (more) stinking depressing crap.

Dear Carolyn.  First.. Victor's opine on the three advice folks, sorry, kinda, not really.  Annie seems to be the youngest, newest to the game, and that's cool.  Abby, she's been around since tintype ain't she? Wise, 'seen, heard everything', ie, predictive.

Carolyn, I ain't well versed nor am I a paid consultant to judge, but, to me, "she's with it."  New age, smart, clever writer, pins answers down, maybe tosses in a splash of guilt..

Anyways.... a mom of two thirty-something daughters wrote Carolyn, "At wits end" about them. 'Both capable, great jobs, many wonderful qualities, mildly depressed, personal lives a mess.. one in an on again off again relationship with a man who won't commit... the other, in a many year relationship with a wonderful man but SHE won't commit.

'Pained' (that's how the letter writer penned her name.) My two sisters have adult children with their own families and children whom they spend their holidays with and it pains me to see my own daughters stuck... and still, no grandchildren (I bolded that, newspaper didn't) or progress.   Then basically stole from the Beatles, Help, I need somebody. (Advice)

Editor's note... wouldn't it be fun to have, like a Southpark adviser added to the fray?  You know, like "Look here b*tch, DON'T meddle and git ur own life." or something like that.

Carolyn told pained, "Howabout this... They are okay. Wherever they are, is okay.

She then briefly addressed the perceived depression, "I don't have access to them, but, there's no clock, no race, no Major Award for Approximation of Happiness Through Life Milestone Acheivement anywhere I've seen.'

'But, I do have access to you, so I can ask, why are you so caught up in your daughter's adult children's business?"   You GO Carolyn!  Southpark 'em  "Look here b*tch, DON'T meddle and git ur own life." 

'Now, eyes on your own paper. Your two daughters are doing their thing and that's great. That they're capable and have good jobs and wonderful qualities is not stuff to breeze by.  Re: stuckness, Mom, it's not their job to give you grandchildren.  That expectation alone can eat away at their well-being.'

VICTOR?  Yain't gotta yell, I'm right here...  Are you gonna turn this blog into a continual advice column?

No.  Tomorrow I'm gonna be Joel Olsteen, preach, raise money to straighten out folks.

Monday, I'll host a Town Hall, invite all my Pub and Dem friends, see if we can get this ironed out.

Then, Tuesday, we're gonna lock Eric Cartman in a padded cell... see if we can get that little manipulative foul-mouthed kid the correct meds or therapy to stop being a narcissist and sociopathic child.

Or, I may write about something else stupid, throw in some 70's lyrics and call it an omelette blog.

Eggciting eh?

Love, Victurd

And........ winning the Bronze medal........ Nazgul from the Canary Islands!

 

Victor, I admit, your blogs are for the birds... but, really?  The Canary Islands?  And, they ain't got the Iditorod in the Olympics...  do they?  No, they don't.  I used the Canary Islands because they were named after dogs.  The bird thing is a misnomer, I didn't know until reading today... Canariae Insulae, meaning "Island of Dogs"..as in the original explorers found vast numbers of large, wild dogs on the Island of Gran Canaria.

Now, the pooch in the pic is Nazgul, actually from  Italy.  A lady was watching the hound for her brother... he actuallly lives pretty close to the Cross Country Ski course... Gal, Elisa, had gone somewhere... came home... Nagul had somehow opened TWO doors, escaped... and headed down the known path they usually walk... which, was to the course.  If you've had the TV on all, I'm certain you've seen....

Nazgul ended up ON the course... running just behind the first and second place runners., finishing in 'third place' to the delight of 26.5 MILLION TV viewers.. .. among them, 
dog watcher Elisa, "When we saw him on TV we were shocked!

I'm sure most of us have had a hound or two escape in our lifetimes..  Old people repeat stories, SORRY, ex and I usedta walk our Yorkie, Smokey Butterball.. on the path around the large cemetery in town.  As the daylight grew shorter - we found ourselves walking in the dark... Smokey loved the freedom of no leash.... so, we bought a battery operated RED flashing light and put it on his collar. Twas quite fun to see.Then, once, the little shit (said lovingly) took off.  We panicked, started running ourselves... Came upon a flock of snotnoses walking...  "HAVE YOU SEEN..... and before we could finish, they said "A LITTLE DOG RUNNING WITH A RED FLASHINGLIGHT?"  "YES!" They pointed us in right direction, Smokey apprehended not long after.

15 to 20 MINUTES.  The below link takes about 15 to 20 minutes to read.  It really isn't edge-of-your-seat reading, but, rather transcript of a podcast on the extreme ends a couple went to, to find their brand spanking new rescue dog who'd run off. Questions I asked, "really?  You gave it that all?"... "Had to have cost a lot?"... "Those people didn't know you, but let you use their house?"  Anyways, if you read, I hope you enjoy.  I did.

Your choice.  Sit.  Stay. Read.

Or, "Go."

Happy weekend

I am FAR, FAR from IT smart. I ain't sure, you might have to copy and paste.

https://www.outsideonline.com/podcast/the-craziest-lost-dog-story-ever/

Love, Victurd

Take my advice......... no one else does......

Shake. Shake. Shake shake shake...shake your booty.

No dangit, that ain't it.

I. Me. Proven very poorly academically...  Not quite to the point of strapping a pork chop on a necklace so the dog'll play with me... yet still, I demonstrate the chutzpah to announce, "Man it's a shake your head world, today."

Holy mackerel (which, huh uh, shake my head 'no', ain't got nuttin, at least my define, with religion.) I perfer to say 'holy mackerel' as an element of surprise, but then again, howintheheck can anything today surprise us?

Don't be surprised I had to lookup how to spell 'chutzpah', as well as look up the origin (and definition) of the saying 'Holy mackerel.')

You asked for it, you got it, Toyota.  And, athletic directors, colleges, lovers of "Dear ole State U", and, sport nerds like me.

Shake. Shake.  Shake shake shake, shake that change in your pocket.  It be about money honey, today.  Hey, nice job newly hired coach... 'we're gonna giveya a new house, car, contractual millions, bigger office, and oh yeah, if we later decide we goofed and we wanna get ridda ya, we'll give you $18+ million (K-State) to get outta here...or $20+ million (UCLA). Don't let the door hitya in your purse.

K-State will go thru a lengthy process, he said, she said, regarding if the coach is fired for cause (We ain't payin'!) or not (Gimme my money honey!) .  UCLA ain't fired their guy yet, but wow, an LA sportswriter wrote a scathing article about him.... ending "He's gotta go, he's left a pyramid of poop on (beloved coach) Wooden's legacy."

Shake shake shake, shake shake shake, shake your head, switch to advice columns instead.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

I mean, well, OK.  Paraphrasing... letter to Dear Abby.. "Loved my MIL...she passed.  FIL later started dating lady NONE of us like.."unkind, dismissive... tension abound when she's around."  NOW, they're getting married, and, ON MY BIRTHDAY! Would it be selfish or inappropriate to ask them to consider a different date?"  (TBC)

I love me some Dear Abby. "I'm sorry for your disappointment, but the date of your birth doesn't belong solely to you."  You tell her Abby, I'll pat ma' foot!

And in another column Dear Annie advised.... VICTOR? Are you gonna do like twenty of these?  No. I ain't even gonna read the details of hers, only the advice she gave.  Good, ty.  Annie is a younger version of Abby.  Perty too.  VICTOR, did you have to add that?  I am human (male pig) hear me roar.  Her advice was.................

"Advice is only useful to people who want it. Everyone else wants an audience."

Today's blog is pretty useless.... I wouldn't even 'like' if I were you.  It just seems any more, there ain'tno ain'tno real thing such as Breaking News... or.. ."I've heard it all now"..  All, or most, is, shake, shake, shake.... shake your head, instead.

I miss Captain Kangaroo in the mornings........ I don't believe in Superstars, organic food or foreign cars..... but I believe in love.. I believe in babies.. I believe in mom and dad, and I believe in you.

Who knows what regurgitates today... maybe something like Prince Andrew arrested........Nah, then we will have seen everything.......

Turn on the music insteada the news........

Shake shake shake... shake shake shake...  shake your booty, it's a real cutey.  VICTOR! I am human (male pig) hear me roar.  

I wish peace, happiness, love and contentment for us all.  That usedta be easy.... 'stuff' has been getting in our way.  Grab life's ironing board, we gotta get the wrinkles out.

Love, Victurd

I wonder what Piggy Wiggly does with all the eggs cartons that have 11 unbroken eggs?

You do it, I seenya. I do it, every time.  We buy a six pack of Pepsi, we throw it in the cart. Same with a box of a dozen donuts.  A 12 pack of those little yummy cinnamon applesauce thingies.... Doest thou take the time to stop, hey what's that sound...  nope, oops, wrong lyrics... does thou take the time to open Sesame...  crap, that ain't it either. OPEN. INSPECT. BUY (or not.)  No, but...but... eggs?

At day's end, the Piggly will have at least eight cartons of eggs with only 11 good eggs.  The hell do they do with 'em?

Do they put em all in one basket, then sell em for like 20% off?  I always heard "Don't put your eggs all in one basket."  And I suppose that's twue, it's reawwy reawwy twue.

Life is hard.  Victor, are you saying buy powdered eggs instead?  Ahm, no, but nice swing... level it out, ya got a bit of an uppercut.

Diversify.

Risk mitigation.  Victor, don't do it, I'll fall asleep if you advise.  Eh, right you are.  I've had Port wine, but, I ain't had no Portfolio... but, the message, don't invest it all in one place, right Blockbuster fans? Elevator operators?  Yeah, what goes up must come down, but sometimes they get buttons and don't need ya on there anymores. 

What about Sony?  (Victor, you're prolly the only fool on the planet that remembers that commercial... and I must say, in spite of some tariffs, I think Sony is doing quite well.)

What about marriage?  (Ahm, Victor.  Don't swat me, but ain't you got the rule you [of all people] don't fork out advice on, relationships, quitting smoking, and.... investing?  Yeah, mebbe the yoke is on me, I have dropped a few baskets in my lifetime.)

That said, I see so many wonderful, happy couples.... marriages that thrive on exclusivity.  Then TURN LEFT Victor, here. NOW.  But, but, but.... I had my eyes done years ago... my left eye is for close up, it's hard for me to see cars comin' from thata direction.  Then Victor have mono surgery next time....... Nah, the light down there is red now, I can go, but tyvm.

Is there a purpose to this blog Mr. Olsteen...er, I mean Victurd?

Yeah, plan B.  Ya mean like having a gf waiting in the wings?  Yeah, I mean NO.  I mean like on investments....  if, mebbe in a dating situation, then yeah, don't just "Put me in coach, I'm ready to play... today... put me in coach... look at me, I can be Centerfield."  Ahm, no, in dating, play the field eh?  Why not, it's the one time it's ok to.

Back up plans.  You mean like them nifty back up cams they got in the brand spanking new F One Fitties?  Well, kinda I guess.  I did see a funny (VICTOR!)... ok, I did see where some guy was gonna complain to Ford because there was a glitch in his camera... it showed some guy walking behind getting run over.  NOT funny Victor.  Bite me, I kinda thought so.

, 

Niche, in work.  Ya gotta niche, that's all good.  But, we all need a back up plan in case the industry changes... and if ya watch, industries change. I saw an article on Indeed that listed 51 jobs that ain't no more. I started to peek but I had to do one'a those stupid 'prove you're human' things so I stopped.

Friends.  Wonderful column in KC Star today, a Dear Abby thingy..... Lady said her and mothers of other snotnoses got close, became friends when their kids were in Elementary school... it continued over the years... went on many very nice outings outside of their school stuff.... but, recently she finds herself not included with the group so much... she would see her buddies talking about things she wasn't included in.. "weekend hike"... "a brunch"... and sure, it worried her, she had no ID (that's the way we country folks, say idea, no ID) what to do, or why.

Abby's advice, solid I thought.  "You're not being needy.. your being a human with working eyes.  Friend groups rarely sit down and vote someone off the island. They do it the way you described: one brunch here, one concert there, a handful of "Oh, you would have loved it" and comments like that land like tiny paper cuts."  Yeah Victor, so what'd she say?

"Before you assume you did something wrong, consider the most common explanation, momentum. People fall into routines with whoever is loudest, closest, fastest to reply or easiest to coordinate with. That's not flattering, but it's often true.  Still, sure, "accidental" exclusion hurts the same."  Victor, I get it, but Abby ain't really advised her yet.  

"Pick one friend you trust... say, 'I've noticed I'm often hearing about plans afterward. If I've done something to cause that, I'd want to know.  And it it's just how things have shifted, I'm feeling a little left out."  Then, watch what happens next."  (Continued, wake up!)

"Real friends adjust.  Casual friends reassure you and keep right on brunching."  Victor, I get it, but the hell does this have to do with eggs in one basket at Piggly Wiggly?  Just that.

Abby continued "Don't put your social life in the hands of one group chat.  This is your sign to widen your circle: one new class, one new lunch or one invitation with someone who lights up when you suggest it. Friendship isn't supposed to feel like trying to get into an overbooked restaurant."

Thank Abby... but too... I go with my old standby for restaurants... "Party of two, last name Starving."  I give up Victor.

But Victor, just a song before I go........no, that ain't it.  Easter.  Easter is coming up.  You can't arm all the little snotnoses with more than one basket canya?

Blog reader, I too sometimes consider giving up.. but in this case, I suggest you call Piggly Wiggly aheada time, see if they'll donate all them cartons with 11 eggs, thataway, if someone does drop their basket, all their problems are solved, no yoke.

Have a hoppy day,

Love, Victurd

Puff the magic dragon, lived by the Landing

Happy first day of the Lunar Calendar.  I have ZERO prior knowledge of, what's it all about, Alfie?  I started to do a blog to 'Xplain Lucy', but, I'm a simpleton, it'd take me a year to unnerstand it....

Let's keep it simple, like.. the solar (Gregorian) calendar tracks the Earth's orbit around the Sun.. (365 days) staying synced with seasons.. whilst lunar calendars track the Moon's 12 phases (354 days) shifting 11-12 days earlier annually.  Don't read this, see? I'm still confused.

What I think we all know, like Noah...  animals.  Side note, heard a funny (VICTOR!  YOU TELL IT, WE'LL decide if it's funny....  OK, agree withya).. Guy said "He was running so hard it was like he was the third monkey trying to get on the Arc."  I liked it anyways.  Where was I?  Animals Victor.

Oh yeah.  The animals of the Lunar calendar. Rat. Ox. Tiger. Rabbit. Dragon. Snake. Horse. Goat. Monkey. Rooster. Dog. Pig.

It'd actually be kinda cool if we could pick, or, if mom and dad could pick which one, then... they'd wrap ya in a cute little onesie of a Rabbit... or, a Horsey... Doggy, yada.

But. Turns out, they've been recording lunar cycles since the Paleolithic era with artifacts like the Ishango bone.. huh?  Yeah, me too.  (c 20,000 BC, ie, quite awhile ago apparently.)

I guess, according to legend Buddha, or some Jade Emperior, held a race...  12 animals. To like get on the Arc Victor?  No sir, to assign associated animals to the calendar year.  Apparently, the rat was the fastest, so he was the first.  Ox, Tiger, Rabbit, Dragon, etc, etc, you can Google the rest.

I guess, everyone born within the 354 days of the lunar thingy, has the same animal designation. Do you know yours?  I didn't either.. so I Googled..  It's now 7:13 am Central, when I Googled to learn I was born in the year of the Dragon, that was a few hours ago and now I can't find the damn link to check.  You're on your own, sorry, but... let's have fun with it.  (Victor, YOU blog, we'll decide after if it was fun.)

Ohhhhhh, I see.  You could be a candidate for the Rat eh?  If you had your druthers, which would you pick?  Dragon, again, not my first choice.... and, don't tell, I even Googled "Were there ever dragons?" I'M A SIMPLETON, AND WHO KNOWS, IF IT'S BASED OFF ISHANGO BONES OF 20,000 YEARS AGO, WHO KNOWS MIGHTA BEEN, HELL THERE'S 33 TYPES OF DINOSAURS?"

No, no such thing as dragons.  Sorry Disney, pick another movie.

Howabout people we know?  Would it be fun to guess, label them?

Rat.  Wiki say 'resourceful, intelligent.'  Sorry if that's your birth year but I call bullsh*t.  Where, just where, are rats welcome?  Last time I saw one, I was sitting on a bench across from a restaurant in Liberty, little dude crawled out from the back door, went along the side of the buiding to the front door.  Musta been time for the buffet to start.  Message me, I'll tellya which restaurant. I hope you are ok, but I'd be mentally unstable to be a Rat all my life.  Some prolly think that anyways.

Victor, are you gonna spend this much time on each animal?  If so, I'll go paint the spare bedroom and watch the paint dry, or, wait for you to get to the Goat (sheep), take a nap and count em.  Bite me.

Let's do Goats them.  Wiki say calm, gentle, creative, sympathetic.  After some thought, it'd be pretty cool to be Year of the Goat. I mean, you ever watch 'em?  They are all about FUN.  Run here, have fun, jump there, more fun, then, EAT, EAT, EAT all day.  Not baahhh'd eh? That's a pretty good life nutshell.

Know any Roosters in your life?  Observant, hardworking, courageous, and confident. Again Wiki, I call BS.  Roosters text you at 5am. Loud. They molt, eww.. and what the hell is a cloacal kiss?  Doesn't sound like any Barry White song I ever heard. 

Would you wanna be born in the year of the animal deemed wise, intuitive and calm?  Congrats, you're now what Wiki calls Snake. That ain't what I think of when I thinka snake, you? I think of "RUN FORREST", antidotes and, 'where's the hoe?'

Ox. Diligent, dependable, strong willed and hardworking.  Them seem like mighty fine attributes to me, but, how'd you like a lifetime of introducing, "This here's my wife, Ox." Maybe ok for the zodiac calendar but don't seem cutout for no Girly Calendar.  VICTOR, you're a pig.

Victor Victor Bo Bictor Bonana Fanna Fo Fictor, let's do Pig.  Noble, considerate, fortune-seeking,  Like them attributes?  Would you marry a Pig?  Fortune-seeking?  Ain't there other terms for that?  It is said (one time, Band Camp, I usedta enjoy gambling) "Pigs get fat, hogs get slaughtered."

Victor?  How many more you gonna do?  Good idea blog reader, we'll do Rabbit next. Gentle, quiet, cautious and compassionate, which, you, that blog reader/writer ain't.  Good mate material?  You're no bunny till some bunny loves you?  Did you ever have to make up your mind, say yes to one and leave the other's behind...   (Bear in mind, ever seen a flat rabbit on the road?  Uh huh, me too.  Indecisive.

One more.  (THANK GOODNESS.) Bite me.  OK, we've got left.... Tiger, Horse, Monkey ad Dog.

Well... Tigers ARE cool, brave, strong.  Horses, I can't get the Budweiser commercial outta my head.. so strong, beautiful, cool...   Monkeys, nah, they throw poop. Let's do the Dog. Everyone loves the dog.

True. right away, tail wag, makes ya happy. They're always in a good mood.  Loyal. Sit. Stay. Come. Fetch. Protectors. BARK BARK BARK, GET THE HELL OUTTA MY YARD SQUIRREL!  

And we've all heard the story....... Lock your mate and your dog in the trunk... let 'em fester an hour.. open it up...  which one would be happy to see you?

Dog.  My first choice.  Yours?  Dragon. Not my first choice, but, I've been one for 73 years I guess.  What are you?

FYI, if you're having a baby in the next 353 days, it'll be a Horse.

Happy Lunar New Year.

Please know, you've been Mooned.

Love, Victurd