Thirsty? Just Whistle!

I'm a hoarder of sorts. Like the next guy, time, life 'provide' for an inordinate amount of crap that will either bring pennies come Estate Sale day or, head to the dumpster to also be ultimately buried too. In this case though, I''m talking about a list of favorite words snatched up along the way from kiddygarden, to just yesterday morning.

Zimbabwe is one. Just hella fun to say (and hear).  Some regular ole regular like love, nice, passion, sweet, farts pooters...whippersnapper, snotnose, chimchimcheree, inagaddadavida, and of course boomshakalaka.

Thirst. Add thirst to the above list. (May be a pop quiz later, so please be thinking of your favs!)

Merriam, I assume madam librarian, relates 'a sensation of dryness in the mouth and throat associated with a desire for liquids'.. well sure, and 'a desire  or need to drink', so "well duh", hella why it's on my list.

Merriam continues 'an ardent desire', CRAVING, LONGING...  Yeah baby, I'm all over that one.

Thirst. Thirst to be here. An ardent desire to put the tootsies on the floor in the morning. The quest, want, to go see 'alive', friends, loved ones, birds, trees, rain, snow, sunshine.. to wanna feel the wind.. smell whatever the situation lends... To wanna partake, be among.... Smile, laugh, cry...FEEL!

Sure, a thirst for, in, of, a relationship. You didn't ask, but on of my all-time favorite movie quotes... On Golden Pond.... Bitter that she really didn't have what she (Chelsea) graded as a good relationship with her father (Norman Thayer), Chelsea in a breath calls him a sonofabitch to her mother, Ethel Thayer.  Ethel, OOZING with relationship thirst for her hubby replies "That sonofabitch happens to be my husband " Yum.

Want. Awaken. Smile. Go. See. Sit if it feels better. Pet a hound. Take a drive. Hold hands. Use the word love. Chin at least level. 

Thirst looms large. Must be kept in hip pocket, and heart.

Yes, it can disappear, usually temporary. Enlist: Doctor, friends, loved ones, and probably most importantly, self.

Victor, there you go preaching again. Nope. I've simply experienced thirst dwindling, lending a hand.

We've all probably observed friends, loved ones, who have been through so so much...for whatever reason, "I'm tired" is communicated. Sad.

Just as sad, bastard mental afflictions that literally steal the ability, want, knowledge of how to eat and drink.

Sometimes life plainly sucks.

Thus, we gotta fill the resta our time up thirsting any, every thing life puts in front of us.

Love you. Did I mention friend was onea my favs too?

Just whistle!

Love, Victurd

Close to...... sumpin...

Why do birds suddenly appear, every time you....put birdseed out?

Why do stars fall down from the sky
every time you..... are driving around at night almost asleep at the wheel? Are they like, "Eh, Charlie, I've been hanging around  for, what, three billion years now, I think I'm gonna go."?

On the day that you were born the Angels got together.... and probably swept the Royals in a four game series..

That is why all the boys in town follow you all around.... there's a hole in your back pocket and pennies, dimes and quarters are falling out with every step you take..

Just like me, they long to be..... rich.

Sorry, bad case of writer's block.

Victor? Whointhehell called you a writer?

Eh, right you are. Maybe I should be a Carpenter, close to you.... right Karen?

Idea uno was 'all about apostrophes' <-- did I just miss one?

I's.... Victor, that would appear to be an incorrect contraction using "I is." It's I'm, I am, NOT I is. You can't do that.

You mean like when I say "I is the ninth letter of the alphabet?

Smartass.

That, I is. Lilliane, oh Lilliane.

Old age, I's, er, I'm finding, is oft times about I can not, or, the contraction 'can't'.

As in, I useda could, but now I can't...enter youthful crap here, ie, like run, jump, hop, stay up til midnight to watch the ball drop (anyone making a joke about droopy balls, I's gonna getya!)

I once was young, but now I'm old... I can't... leap tall buildings in a single bound... walk a mile without having to stop and pee... walk a mile..cartwheel..forward roll (at least not on purpose)... stuff a basketball..ok damnit, yes, it was a tennis ball but I did do it once! I's not lying!

Burl Ives, you can blow all the smoke you wanna outta that Little Engine That Could what with it's "I think I can, I think I can, I think I have a plan"... but, much, I's, we's, old folks, can't.

Just like me, they long to be close to you.

But, I can't.

With apologies, this blog is so bad it should self destruct in two minutes.

Maybe ya had to be there.

Love, Victurd

A pea podcast...

 Two peas in a pod. I reckon vely similar. Or, as Wolfgang Busch, the helmeted German soldier on Laugh In might say, "Vely interesting."

Could be two siblings.  Could be a/any couple. Any further descriptors, traits might garner front page news, hatespeak, yada.

Peas are annuals, which, may figure. Mr. Pea and Mrs Pea both go to work. Mr. Pea might verbally compose a memo while his secretary provides shorthand.  If other hands get involved, it could turn to split peas, which, are actually used for peas porridge.

Male piggy peas have quite the reputation for this, but too, Goldilocks ate porridge from three different bowls, AND slept in three different beds.

Oft times, peas go to counseling to appease the wants, demands of one or the other, but the majority of the time, they start out sleeping in different bedrooms in the pod and eventually split, thus, poor'ridge.

Pea cultivars normally mature in sixty days, however some do on the first date, get their own pod, perhaps have regrets later, realizing they've mistaken 'Whoop'pea!' for two peas in a pod.

If two peas procreate, only to become split peas, it's a hella mess. The four bedroom manor is sold (or foreclosed), each get a new pod, usually a studio apartment, little peas often must share a bedroom, thus, virtually no pot to pea in. They get little peas every other December 25th, and provide half the rides for soccer, dance, scouts, yada. Sometimes later even gather free agents, known better as step'pea kids.

401K's become worthless 200 and a half K's.  Each former pea podder might fill the ears of the young peas about how horrible the other pea is, was. Children, some, see thru this and understand perhaps it's green pea envy.

Then, sometimes, two peas in a pod works.  Forever and ever. Golden anniversaries are held, four bedroom manor down to a ranch... The elder peas eventually pass.  Little peas fight, argue over goods, money,... It can get slop'pea.  Sometimes they even haveta get a storage unit, go to court, judgement entered but all green money won't even pay to get the goods outta hock. Back to square one, or maybe round one (pea).

Movies are made about these lifelong stories, can be viewed with wifi and Peacock network. Most peas love animals, foster, volunteer for Peata.

Some are devistated for life, disappear, only to be reached at a P(ea)O box.

I think I'm done here now. Yes, I know I'm weird, thus, haven't found, kept other pea in pod. 

It's OK. I'm hap'pea, truly.

Gotta pea now.

Hap'pea resta the weekend.

Love, Victurd

Raindrops keep fallin' on ma' head...........

Then get outta the rain, dummy. Better yet, dodge 'em...

Dodge traffic...

Dodge cars (the brand).

Dodge questions, like a politician (see the Governor, Best Little Whorehouse in Texas, Dance a Little Sidestep)

Dodge a bullet

Synonyms: duck, evade, fudge, skirt, shun

Dodge one you owe money to.

Dodge much... texts, phone ringing, knock on door, an 'ex, a bf or gf that you ain't so sure you still wanna be bf or gf.

Dodge have to's, need to's, shoulds so that little midget boxer that lives inside your brain will start punching, thus, hella migraine.

Dodge scale, logic : I look fatter but I ain't jumping on that muther to confirm

Dodgeball. Nothing more embarrassing than trying to dodge school chums for the remainder of the after 'catching' onea them reddish pink playground balls upside the cheek, eyeball, thus, redness, swelling, and again, that damn little midget boxer in your brain punching in attempt to get out.

Dodge cleanliness, equal stinky, eccentric hoarder. We know. BO knows.

Dodge CNN. Dodge Fox. Is this the real life...is this just fantasy..

Dodge the crack, you'll break your mother's back.

Dodge crack...we all will know, as will Walgreen/CVS Sudafed counters.

Dodge the baseline after walking off the mound, bad luck.

Black cat, turn around, other way, ie, dodge.

I cannot tell a lie.

No, that ain't it. Earlier I was sparring with that damn midget boxer trying to pencil blog idea. The thought "Get out of Dodge" crossed my brain (and the midget's). I kinda sorta knew it was about Dodge City.

Wiki told me it kinda came from Gunsmoke. (You hella old like me then surely you remember Mr. Dillon, Festus, Doc, Kitty.)

Wiki also done tell me "Dodge City, KS, a "Wicked Little Town" because it was  perched on the edge of the wild frontier. Buffalo hunters, then cowboys stopped in Dodge for R&R, which was often wild. Saloons, gambling halls, brothels.

Get the hell outta Dodge?

To the contrary. Wanna go?

Love, Victurd

Tug of love....

Elementary PE long ago. Long, thick rope laying on the gym floor, awaiting 'tuggers.' Teacher would try to evenly divide the class into two teams of weight, strength, #of boys/girls, etc. Ain't sure where you are from, but at Franklin Elementary in Liberty, MO, that tweren't how it happened. In the interest of time (ya only have PE for 30 minutes), perhaps teacher laziness... It was "Count off...the 'odds' are over here, 'evens' over there."

You hoped for the biggest specimen for the anchor spot.  You hoped all the 'wiseacres' were divvied up (wiseacres are the conspirators who would prearrange "all let go when Jimmy hollers the key word", thus, laughing, watching as the other team collapses backwards in a huff, banging their heads, potentially becoming concussed before we ever even knew what the word meant.

It, of course, was hoped your team would win, AND finish with all the skin still on your palms.    Braggin' rights, maybe raising your hand to your forehead, forming an 'L' with your thumb and forefinger, should you, in passing (lunch, recess, school bus) come across someone on the losing team.

Kinda resembles our life battles. Jets/Sharks ("When you're a jet you're a jet all the way from your first cigarette to your last dying day",), Crushers/Bombers, little league, or maybe more locally, Duncan Oil/Moore's Barber Shop. Ya furrow your brow, show ya' teeth and your lips vibrate spastically like hound pooch ready to fight. Ya don't really know why, but ya do.

We spend a lifetime wading in, thru, conflict. Classmates. Rival city sport's, band, debate, cheer teams. Coworkers. Underlings, management. 'Thought' friends that maybe ain't.

Inlaws, some, maybe. Dem/Pub, young/old, rich, poor, different colors, religion, language, size, likes, wants, needs, haves, have nots.

Patooey.

I love aging. It helps to jump over, sidestep, shake hands, remove these barriers. 

Sure, the brain works, saves data like a computer.... but haha, age acts like a processor. Sure, we slip "Victor, I saw what you wrote about DT...KU..management." Forgive me Father, Tug of War admittedly happened, I'm sorry, and I hope, pray, planta do bettter into the future."

Jets/Sharks, share a Yuengling. 

You mean we sat on that bank, fishing, talking for three hours and we just learned we're of opposing political persuasion? I'm Fred. I'm Earl, nice to meet you.

Gee, good Facebook friend/classmate, I wish we woulda visited more years ago.

Confucius say "Handshake leave no rope burn." Or, that mighta been Gomer, Goober, Barn, Aunt Bea, Marcia Brady, can't remember.

Evens, odds, have a happy, harmonious day.

Love, Victud       

Get your motor runnin....

 The News, nuh uh, not Huey Lewis's group... the TV News relates "Over 37 million will head out on the highway" this Holiday weekend. That's a lot. Probably a parking lot in many instances. Oh, the times they are'a changin'.

Seatbelts for all snotnoses, DVR's, earbuds too...  "Are we there yet dad, are we?", could likely be met with "Google (Maps) it", "Use you Mapquest", or, "Fa' goodness sakes, ask Siri."

Hell, nowadays, Tesla may be the driver and dear old dad is perhaps snoozing back there in the third row.

"Charlie hit me!", could possibly prompt dad (or Tesla) to take the off ramp, pull into QuikTrip, review captured video way clearer than that little screen NFL refs peer into, to announce "Susie, upon further review, you pinched the inside of Charlie's thigh roughly 30 seconds before you hollered "Charlie hit me!", busted, hand the remote to Charlie, set your phone for an hour from now, then we'll see."

Kids today can't get away w/nuttin'.

I wonder (Oh I wunder wunder wunder wunder who, who-oo-ooh, who, who wrote the book of love. ) No, that ain't it, but if you know him or her who did, let's see if we can get that puppy on the banned book list.

I wonder, should either ginger Charlie or Susie, fitty years from now, also became smart aleck bloggers, how would they write about Holiday road trips they took into their golden years? "Remember gas stations?" "Yeah...but do you remember how we used to rassle each other back when dad had to pull into one's those charging stations?"  "Yeah, I'm sure glad we've got The Tube, Charlie I don't think I could stand sitting by you for 30+ minutes nowadays."

Your memories? Did you terrorize your folks?

I loved road trips as a kid. If either of us (me/sister) had to pee we'd announce "I GOTTA GO I GOTTA GO, I GOTTA GO TO CONOCO!"

It wasn't a road trip without a pecan log roll, mmmmm, heaven. Dad would ask "Who wants to go to St-OO-keys?" Sister would reply "That's a St-UP-id way to pronounce it, but yes, we BOTH want Stuckeys."

Before Ike and his Interstates changed everything, no off ramps, no QT's...it was Burma Shave and 'PICNIC AREA, 12 MILES', "YES! Some'a mom's fried chicken and maybe, just maybe, a game of catch!"

"HURRY DAD!" Our father didn't know hurry... in fact, sister and I would literally clap our hands in applause if he ever passed another car on the old 2-lane roads.

Ahhh mems. Yours?

You can trust your car to the man who wears the Star..... DING DING, "Fill 'er up, Ethel."

Travel safe. See the USA in your Chevrolet .. or Tesla, SUV, EV, Tube, whatever.

PLEASE, share any/all travel mems from back in the day!

Love, Victurd

I HATE when young people 'learn me!'

Actually that's not really true... Young people are a gift - and, 'we were them', once.

Really though (which kinda sorta resembles starting this sentence with "I mean"), this is a short blog (you're welcome) on happiness.

Of course I can't speak for us all, but I believe safe to say the vast majority of us stand in awe/admiration  for those whom you simply can't wipe the happiness off their face, especially in encumbered time (personal ache/pain; family/relationship crap going on; ultra cold weather; drippy hot weather; financial woes; any kinda woes.)

How they able to do that? Don't they have ire? Mires?  Never perspire? Deal with liars? Work fires? Milk, bananas expires? Nerves never wired? 

Remarkable to try to walk/see from their shoes, but, don't everyone's feet ultimately hurt?

Recently, I was at my chillax, relax, smoke cigs, read paper, mom and pop breakfast joint.. in walks a lady (coulda just as easily been a guy), she sat at the counter.. talked to workers, then on her phone... in 15 minutes, she dropped (VERY LOUDLY) more F-bombs than Carter has pills, or Jimmy has buckets. Old McDonald had a foul mouth, E-I-E-I-F. We, everyone there, couldn't wait for her tude to leave the building. Finally did.

Whie F-lady was mid-bombs, in walks a guy (coulda just as easily been a lady) approximately the same age, 40-ish.  Music to scrambled egg eating ears. "Yes ma'am. No ma'am. Thank you ma'am." (Had Aretha been there, she woulda started singing her song.) As I was leaving, in passing, I offered, "I can tell you had loving parents didn't you?" His face lit up and the answer was obvious.

Back at the ranch, the golf course I work part-time at, we get a pretty fair amount of them "I'm happy, I'm gonna be happy even if I 3-putt, have triple bogies, lose balls in the forest, yada." Those kind. We, us coworkers, have developed a standardized greeting for them as they come in. One of us (workers) will put a hand up to the other's ear - as if we're telling a secret, but we don't, we look the e'er smiling one in the eye, and in a voice loud enough for them to hear, "WATCH THIS ONE....I THINK HE/SHE IS ON DRUGS. HE/SHE IS ALWAYS HAPPY." More smiles.

I went to a bar once. NO! YOU VICTOR? OK, maybe more than once, but who's counting. Thankfully I sat at the table being waited on by my favorite server. I've observed her work attitude at least 50 times (oops). Said lovingly, young punk,  early 20's. She 'gets it', life. Every moment in her life is a gift, thus, ours is too. EVERYONE there loves her. She's good, fast, ALWAYS upbeat, fun.  One day I winged a compliment as such, mentioned how life can get us all down, so I asked "How do you do it?" With return eye contact, smile, she succinctly answered "It's not that bad, Vic."

I hate (LOVE) when young people 'learn me.'

Love, Victurd