Hello lamppost, what'cha knowin?

Struck out in Wordle today.  It, really, is like golf. I don't care, the fun of the game is what perks me. In our regular golf foursome, I virtually always take last.  Go ahead, try to wipe the smile offa my face! Yain't gonna!

Then, I read the news today oh boy... Now that, like always, wiped the smile offa my face.  Light.  I/we need light.  No, not in tastes great - less filling (calories), we need light.... Like: 

Don't bring me down

No, no, no, no, note
Ooh-ooh-hoo
I'll tell you once more before I get off the floor
Don't bring me down

You got it ELO.  I was gonna mention Been Down So Long (that it looked like up to me) but that's too dadgum many songs for one blog.

Eh, what's one more:

Slow down, you move too fast

You got to make the morning last
Just kicking down the cobblestones
Looking for fun and feeling groovy
Ba da-da da-da da-da, feeling groovy

Light, we need light.  Not talking lumins, LED, lightbulbs, refraction, reflection, diffraction, interference, dispersion, polarisation, scattering, yada.  We need to feel groovy, right Paul, Art?

Hello lamppost, what'cha knowing
I've come to watch your flowers growin'
Ain't you got no rhymes for me?
Doo-ait-n-doo-doo, feeling groovy
Ba da-da da-da da-da, feeling groovy

And, even thought - THAT (lampost) reminded me of the death of my wunnerful 2006 Caddy (it was dark, went to Piggly for breakfast, too lazy to go all the way to end of lane to turn around, cut across.. HELLO LAMPOST, what'cha knowing other than the fact my error (smackdab into the lamppost) totaled the car, I'm an idiot (Tell it all brother, before we fall)

I got no deeds to do, no promises to keep
I'm dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep
Let the morningtime drop all its petals on me
Life, I love you, all is groovy

Then it 'dawned' on me (pun about light perhaps intended) it kinda sounds like a drunkard... conversing with a lamppost.

Oh well. (I can't help about the shape I'm in. I can't sing, I ain't pretty and my legs are thin.)

Moderation. I guess.  Folks say 'moderation.'  I do know there are those who kinda scoff at folks that try to keep everything light (raised eyebrow, look of disbelief, shaking head back and forth, "Ahm, Flight Attendant?  Getme a seat away from this screaming infant!")

You say yes (too much levity) I say no (hell to the no, I'm from Liberty, I LOVES me some levity)

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

Mary (no, no lambs) asked me "Are you always like this?" Well... listen, do you want to know a secret, do you promise not to tell, whoa, oh, oh."  Meet me at midnight, Mary, and don't let anyone know.

Don't do it Mary, the booger can't see, even where there's lamposts about. (This is where L&L reminds of decaf coffee)

Of course... of course there are times, moments, situations where humor (or attempt therein) shouldn't be present/reign...

For now though...  I'm gonna grab a pint'a Guiness (ain't that what them mates drink?).. .go be a Hermit, you can find me leaning on the lamppost at the corner of the street in case a certain little lady comes by... oh me... oh my... 

See?  You've maybe already (hopefully, fingers crossed!) been sidetracked away from inflation, injustice, war, hatred, killings, train wrecks, drownings, disappearances, amber alerts, virtually any/everything that fills the airways, medias, etc, every day.  Ugly is an echo.  It repeats itself.  Patooey.

We need light.

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

Doo-ait-n-doo-doo, feeling groovy
Ba da-da da-da da-da, feeling groovy, Doo-ait-n-doo-doo, feeling groovy

Ba da-da da-da da-da, feeling groovy

Forward by Thomas Edison, ELO, George Carlin, Johnny Dolan, KAAY/Little Rock

Love, Victurd

Who are those guys?

If memory serves, and, does it at our age?  Butch, Sundance were fairly long-term robbers.  They'd decided upon robbing a Union Pacific Eastbound train, shortly followed thereafter (because "they'd never guess we'd do it") rob a UP Westbound train. Second robberty, too much dynamite, the gang scrambles to scoop all the strewn cash up... little did they know a posse had been organized on another train, hot on their tracks. 

"Bolivia, let's get outta here, head to Bolivia."  Did.  They even tried going straight, getting a job as payroll guards for a mining company.  Ha.  They were soon robbed, killed the bandits, decided straight life not for them.  Back to US, goal.  They stole a payroll and the burro that was carrying it... a young man recognized them...... shots fired..  both hurt, sought refuge.. thinking "Maybe Austrailia?".. the locals called the Bolitivan Army, which led to the infamous quote "Who are these guys?"

Life on Earth, ya never know.

I thought about, in the recent past, "Who are these guys?" I've been around, befriended, have always run with.

A list:

50's, lost wife a couple years ago. 45'ish, second marriage, happy as can be. My age, never married.  My age, one marriage, long ago.  Me, two marriages, one about 8 yrs, another almost 20. Buddy and spouse, met in HS, married ever since, 50+. Couple a few years younger, 2nd marriage for each, bliss.  A widow, a few years younger, just married, live this state for awhile, that state for awhile.

Longtime marriage, divorce, hooked up with gal from HS.  <--Two of these friends. Another buddy, just lost his wife. Another, same. A buddy, married, going thru severe health issues. Another, 5th, and seemingly loving, final marriage. Another buddy I don't think ever married.  Buddy on his third longterm girlfriend. A marriage on the rocks.

Folks who have lost children, parents, siblings, jobs, houses, their way.  Affluent. Working two jobs to  make ends meet. Business owner.  Just retired, several, 30 yrs, 35 years, 50 years.

Skinny. Athletic. Approaching obese. Old. Young. Afflicted.  Serious medical issues. Conservative. Liberal. Don't know.

Folks who awaken too early, too late, same time every day, work split shifts - early some days, sleep in others,.

Work from home.  Flies to a different airport each week. Commutes 3 miles.   52 miles. Walks to work. Several that are 100% wholly dependent upon others for their well being, varying medical, mental conditions.. Folks that live in Studio Apartments, 3BR apartments, condos, ranch houses, two story, three story, half acre, 5 acres, share a house with their siblings, folks, parents, grandparents, cousins, a good friend..

Those raising their grandkid(s). Adult children still living at home.  Estranged children, grandkids, ex's, siblings, nuclear family. Folks who visit their 90+ year old parent daily.  Folks who never visit their 90- year old parent.

Not real sure where I'm going with this, other than, we live in the same world, but it's different for everyone.

We try, our hardest, to see from other's shoes.

Then again, there's:

High heels, flats, sneakers, boots, sandals, wedges, loafers, ballet flats, sneakers, oxfords, derbies, brogues, loafers, boots, slip-ons, canvas shoes, crocs, work boots, cowboy boots, thongs, you name it, we place our stinky pups in 'em.

How do we do it?  How do we get along? We are different (age, weight, height, marital status, kids, no kids, rich, poor, retired, will never retire - a have too.) We've broken hearts, bones, contracts, vows, laws, other's hearts, our word, ties, plates, keys, windows, mirrors, wind, lots.

We've hired, fired, led, followed, left, stayed, didn't get the job, Indeed we did, had retirement punch/cake, said "Take this job and shove it."

We're the only child, middle.. baby, one of ten, one of five, our family had one stillborn.

Bottom line, we're rich, poor, live on foodstamps, travel, retired at 40-something, go on cruises, cruise only to the ice cream stand, have a maid, usedta live in our van.

Honest, I don't preach. I write to remind ME, hitchhikers welcome.  As we go about, alla the above is out there with us. There is absolutely no way to understand what's going on, has gone on, is about to go on, in another's world.

The potion?

Kindness.  Giving a smile. Asking "How are you"... "Doing ok?"..  "Needta, wanna, talk?"  Giving hugs. Taking that 5, 10 second rest to think - before we speak.

I struggle with much.  I struggle with the fact not all people think as I do. I struggle with taking 2nd place. I stop, hopefully, tell myself "Read alla the difference above, there is more than one way to win." And, there are fer sure differing schools of thought on what a win actually is.

I hope WE do.

Love, Victurd 

 

Martha knows.........

Victor, is this where you tell all about your day yesterday, your day with friends at a Kentucky Derby party?

Uh huh, and.. sorry, but not really.

What's love got to do, got to do with it?  No, that ain't it, well, kinda maybe.

What's "Martha" got to do with it?

Lots.  She's even older than us. Born in August of 1941, she's 82.

OK, I get age, she's older.. what's the Kentucky Derby connection.

Well, she was selected to announce "Rider's Up", meaning, the jockeys needta get upon their horse and head to the starting gate.. for...... "The fastest two minutes in Sports"...

Martha did a bang up job instructing the riders of the Kentucky Derby to "Rider Up." nevermind the fact she announced it was a great day there in Connecticut, but, who cares about details when one is 70, 80 something plus? Perhaps she'd even make a good third party candidate, but, slap me please for mentioning politics in our quest for living, loving, enjoying - life.

Which (a small detail like Connecticut).......... is kinda the point of this blog.  Que sera, sera.....what will be will be, come what may, it's all good, the future ain't ours to see (as long as we can still pee... sorry, saw it, rhymed it.)

At this geezer age, everything is seemingly better.  Well, lemme expound... waistlines ain't, teeth, ifya still got 'em, ain't.. we lean a tad more as we walk... there is, can be, 'crop failure' up there on toppa the head... simple tasks like getting up outta the chair or bed can be accompanied by not-on-purpose grunts and groans, occasional flatulence.... 

BUT.......... the food tastes better.  All wine is seemingly fine wine, even that Winking Owl stuff from Aldi's.  It's sunk in, time is precious, just like all them jockeys know making the trek during the fastest two minutes in Sports.

The specific party I went to, rocked. THANKS to our buddies who annually put it on.  There were flowered hats, beautiful dresses, horsey earrings, dudes all duded up... tables decorated with horseshoes, old Derby glasses, tin buckets (like an oat bucket) fulla people snacks......

There were horses scratched from the race - but, there are no scratches with geezers.  In attendance, one that had a major surgery 6 weeks ago... another with a stint in him from just last week... and yet another awaiting surgery later this month.  (And, that's just the ones we're aware of, certain there were more.) The handshakes and hugs felt better.  The eyeballs meeting of good friends brought on boo koo mems of yesterday, translating to make the smiles larger, in fact, kinda horseshoe-like themselves.

Why no, we ain't going anywhere... but, while we're going, we're gonna celebrate that. Silver yesterdays become golden todays.

What usedta be "you know what burns my butt?  A fire about this (up to the butt) high."  Nuh uh, not now.  That fire is appreciated as it keeps our hands warm on a semi cool Spring day.  Call it geriatric Pollyanna'ism if ya wanna  - we don't give a rats.

Much has been said about the state, shape, attitude, SEPARATION of our Country.  Nun'a that was observed, felt, yesterday.  Yum.

We old.  We love.  We eat, yum.  We talk.  We smile.  We vino (hiccup). We hug, yum. YOLO.  No time for sergeants, no, that ain't it.. No time for a bad day.

Canardly.  Heard that term long ago.  Learned it was about a pooch that one "Can hardly" tell it's bloodline.  Canardly.

The Connecticut Derby was SO much fun.

Martha, we canardly wait.  We canardly wait for The Bridgeport Marathon... and the New Haven 500. (We don't stinkin' care if we leave out small details like Boston or Daytona.. .we just wanna move, go, do, whilst we can.............. and, savor every droppa vino outta that Winking Owl bottle.)

It is said if ya don't move ya die.

Rider's Up, Connecticut and everywhere.

Love, Victurd

How can you have any pudding if you don't eat yer meat?

Blessed.

Blessed is the additional day when we open our peepers.  Do you know people who awaken, and they are disgustingly (said lovingly) in a good mood from the first eyelid opening?  I know, me too.. I dunno how they do it and I admire them/that.

I generally need jumper cables... which, redefined is coffee, the local (or national, don't matter) news so I can combobulate "Oh yeah, today is Saturday." Them creators of blogspot underlined combobulate with a red line.  How can you have any pudding if you don't eat yer meat, misspell words, or, use words that ain't words.

I just figured, most 70-somethings, upon awakening, are DIScombobulated.  I done looked at Google, dat's a word, so, figured, if you chop off the DIS, it would mean to unconfuse.  I guess maybe, not.

It doesn't have to be Folgers in my cup, I enjoy many varieties.

Waking up, to me, is like tippy toeing outside, barefoot.  Soooooooo many perils to make one say OUCH, DAMNIT, THAT HURT, I HATE THAT! Then, one limps thru the day in a pissy mood.

I read the news today oh boy.  Well, not first.  First I returned a text to my youngest niece who also gets up at ugly-30, saw her 4 on Wordle, greeting for the day, winged back "great minds" (4, me too), then I headed for the Sport's page.

What is your routine?  Alla the above (minus the lady screaming about pudding, and, the blog creators being all anal about being grammatically correct) are HAPPY.

Whew.  First base.  We made is safely to first base.

Abbott started convo, lineup card with Costello, relating "Who is on First Base" 

Costello pressed Abbott back for ''Who's on First Base?"  

"I'm telling you, Who is on first base."  

"You know the fellows name?"  

"Yes"

"Well, then who's on first base?"

"Yes"

"I mean the fellow's name on first base?"

"Who."

"The guy on first base."

"Who is on first base."

"Well what are you asking me for?"

"I'm not asking you, I'm telling you, Who is on first base."

Sorry... kinda got off the beaten path there. The path, again, wake up (YAY), make coffee, pee (or, pee, then make coffee should that urge hit first).. get my butt kicked (normally) in Wordle...turn to the Sport's page. Who?  Me, band camp, I did play first base once.

Mid-tippy toeing around the backyard barefooted, kinda sorta.  We dun talked about them that always awaken chirpy.  Me and Cher say It Ain't Me Babe.  I needs me jumper cables, no one screaming in my ear about pudding... that.

Sport's page is usually happy. Was,  Mostly. Chirpy meter at abouta 3.

"Who's on second?" (The Local news)  "No, Who's on first, What is on second."

The local news reminded me of when in relationship.  Don't get me wrong, I loves relationships, I do.  But, in the morning that generally involves bedhead, bad breath, then baby tooters on the way to the john.  Fun stuff, kinda, that ya miss when you're an old, divorced, grumpy fart.  Local news was yuck, which, it generally is - at least what happened yesterday part usually is...

Ok, so we know from the Sports, Who is on first.  Local news relates What is on second.  Third base? World news?  I dont know.

"Yes, I don't know is on 3rd."

"Who."

"No, he's on first.  What's on second, I don't know is on third."

World news, today, and most every day, is akin to skid stains on undies. Well hell, they're real, 'almost' shit happens.  Protests. Slaying arrests. Possible ground operation slaughter. $50 billion in aid.  Warn of email cyberattacks.  Ahm, these jumper cables ain't working, are you sure it ain't your alternator?

So...... in this search for impetus to happy, exit World news, stage left.  Let's go to Facebook, that's kinda like leftfield, ya just never know. "Who's in leftfield?"  "Why"   "I don't know, I just thought I'd ask." "Well, I just thought I'd tell you."

"Who's in leftfield." "No, who is on first base." "Stay out of the infield, the left fielder's name?"   "Why"  "Because."  "Oh, he's in centerfield."

So I get's to Facebook..  a few funny ha ha's, grandkid pics, hound pooches, cats in all places..  YES.. Chirpy meter up to fitty, it's gonna be a great day!

So, I go to a page that is near and dear to me.  The kiddos I sat with 54 years ago. "Your activity is limited. One post a day until May 31, 2024. You've reached today's posting limit." How can you have any pudding if you don't eat yer meat?'

So, I tippy toed to udder places... slid into a "Tastes great!!" (view from Repub shoes) to "Less filling!" (Dem sneakers) convo... After reading 22 he said she said, I was dizzy (I'm so dizzy, my head is spinning, Like a whirlpool, it never ends, And it's you, Facebook, making it spin, You're making me dizzy."  So, I added a 23rd post to the posting "I thought the KC Chiefs had a really good draft." (I self depricate tons, so, don't shoot me when I say I wanted to hit 'like' on my own comment, didn't, but wanted to.) Chirpy meter inched to fitty-four percent.

I decided to blog.  Please know, you bring me happiness.  I, genuinely, try to write about, stay, HAPPY.  Happy is the condiment bar to a nice, fun, life. I know, I know, happy is a choice.  All that said, yeah, Wordle, coffee, jokes, watching dog videos, nature, friends, family, an occasional beer, people watching,  SEEING OTHERS SMILE, much.  Much makes this path to fun life rosier.  Easier sledding.  I mean (Victor, you HATE when people start a sentence with "I mean", cause, you've said "If one who always starts a sentence suddenly says a sentence that ain't started with "I mean", should we be suspect of what they're going to say?")

I mean, we, geezers, ARE over the hill. Shouldn't downhill be easier sledding?

So.......... thanks to YOU, and coffee, the ability to pee, alla the aforementioned fun things I found, my chirpy meter is at 93.  That ain't bad.  I'll seeya tomorrow.

"WAIT"  Yeah? 'You got a pitcher on this team?"

Tomorrow.

Life is good, I just know it because that little redheaded snotnose said the sun will come out tomorrow.

Granny said "To double your money, fold it in half."  As opposed to going out on a limb and betting on Fierceness or Sierra Leone.  

"Who's that?"

Ahm, we've already established who Who is.

Paul Harvey, Good Day.

Notes compiled by Secretariat, 

Spellcheck by Affirmed

Security provided by Barney Fife, one bullet a day until May 31, 2024.

Love, Victurd

Senior Sampler.........

Must be the Season of the Witch, yeah......

My brain, unlike my body (and my driving habits) goes a hunnerd mph. I think I think, too much. My brain flew over the last month or so of weather here in the Midwest, and wowza, weird.

Wind. The last month plus has been all about wind.  Wind plays hell on your golf shot, driving ('specially them big rigs), walking, talking, listening, your neighbor's leaves, yada.  

And then, the last week or so, people here noticed the rain gauge wasn't half full.. that puppy was overflowing. Mud, flood, hydroplane, creeks become baby rivers, the low spots become 'feeshin' pond mirages, dams say 'damn' as they let out water, wet, yuck, clack clack, quack quack.

So............................. Donovan, the hurdy gurdy man, had set my brain on seasons... as in, that's the way, uh huh uh huh, I like living in the Midwest. Change, hell to the yeah, Moffitt, you go ahead and jump in your pool March thru November, I'm enjoying enjoying and suffering Change here.  I truly do like the Seasons.  They're like people, some you enjoy more than others.

I read 7 different interpretations of the song, and it was like I was reading CNN, FOX, MSNBC, Washington Post, New York Times,  The Onion, yada... it was boring (like they are) and, it/they spoke to what it's like walking out the door here, ya just never know. (In the trunk of your car, keep swim trunks, shortsleeve, longsleeve, longjohns, sandals, galoshes, yada.)

To Every Thing Turn Turn Turn....... there is a season, turn, turn.

VICTOR?  Yes?  You're bringing up songs from 19sixty-sumpin.  Uh huh.  Some here might not even'a been born then. Well then we'll call 'em whippersnappers and party on. There, Party On, that's from SNL from the late 80's, that better?

Change.  Adapt.  Sometimes, that's dayum hard.  I try, I really try to not let life, stuff, fluster me.   Then, I go to some new, goofy website, all this crap pops up, I click to close it.... oh hell to the no, when closing, I accidentally opened it, and, by the time I figure a way to close it, I forget whereinthehell I was, and whatinthehell I was readin.'

Or...... it may then pop up options........ 'Stop seeing this ad?  This ad is offensive.' 'Report this ad." I slowly change from wimpy me to THE INCREDIBLE HULK (ie, old, flustered internet dude) and scream aloud (to no one) JUST GET ME BACK TO THE DAMN PAGE.

And it does.  And more crap pops up.  My nine inch monitor has the bottom 7 inches filled with crap I have ZERO interest in, I'm trying to read the top 2" where the meat'a my article is, I click to scroll it, again, accidentally clicking open to some ad, I click to close it,  'Stop seeing this ad?"  "This ad is offensive."  "Report this ad." NO, NO AND NO, just GET ME back to where I was and remind me whatinthehell I was reading.

Victor you cancelled your anti-anxiety meds some time back didn't ya.

Mebbe. Bite me

I have trouble with change.  I liked our airport. I don't need no stinking Downtown baseball field. Wind, you suck, Rain Rain Go Away......... gimme Sunshine on a Cloudy day... Victor, change things up, that's the 3rd 1960 song in this blog.  Bite me! Stop seeing this blog?  This blog is offensive? Report this blog? And yeah, stick THAT up your Funk and Wagnall.  Sorry, kinda, not.

This all started this morning, early. OK, that's a lie.  Me and the Customer Service folks at the Kansas City Star, let's just say we ain't on the same page for some time now.  My subscription started around $20-something long ago, slowly rose to $30-something, I understand, get it, inflation.  Along the way, my subscription would run out and they'd send me a bill for like $2000 a month. OK, that ain't exactly correct, but it was a rate where "ARE YOU FRIGGING KIDDING ME?" was in order. So......... after many instances of that, PLUS, my rate inching up to $40, the news within being two days old, I opted for the much cheaper E edition.

Has been going good. Then, they sent a bill for $2000 or so. Again, i embellish, but it was a cussword invoking amount. I called Customer Service.  "It looks like you're calling from...... is this the number on the account you are calling about" Yes.  In just a few words, please tell us what you're calling. You did it again Bitch! (I didn't say bitch, I'd heard some whippersnappers say that, kinda liked it, but I didn't use it.) I'm sorry, I didn't understand, can you repeat that? YOU DID IT AGAIN! Ultimately fixed, pacified, E paper going well.

Then. Ten emails about "Improvements, big things happening, coming your way."  Oh joy, more change.  We listened to our readers, interactive puzzles, games coming. Hell to the yeah, gimme gimme gimme Sudoku, and, I've missed the Universal Crossword, THAT TOO.

Today. I ALWAYS read the sports first.  Gone. Basta was gone.  Eh, it was a little before 5a. They usually have  it FER SURE on there by 5a, so I awaited that. New and improved (to everything turn, turn, turn - CHANGE). While I was awaiting, I figured I'd devour a game of Sudoku. Crap. Same ole same ole, bottom 7 inches - ADS, top two inches, hurt my neck straining the 2 inch space for Sudoku. Then, I couldn't even get that to scroll up, open.  Two more quarters in the cuss jar.  Back to check on last night's Sports.

NO WHERE TO BE FOUND.  This new and improved really...........STINKS. Finally, after 112 clicks, I found access to the latest local sport's news.  I felt ready for a nap, but, I almost always feel ready for a nap.

Point is.  I love, hate, change. Change (too cold) is why I gave up being a stripper.  Change, is what I stupidly did for years when I no likey'ed a job, or some aspect of therein.  Change, is what them women that would come into my life did, as in, change addresses. 

I DO get upset, but, the above is a bit of a stretch, mosta the time.  I do enjoy change in the weather, but admit to cussing at wind, snow, rain, ice.  I truly DO love women, but, to me, it's akin to juggling.  How many jugglers have you ever seen that juggle forever?

Hey, maybe I'll dye my hair
Maybe I'll move somewhere
Maybe I'll get a car
Maybe I'll drive so far they'll all lose track
Me, I'll bounce right back

Maybe I'll sleep real late
Maybe I'll lose some weight
Maybe I'll clear my junk
Maybe I'll just get drunk on apple wine
Me, I'll be just

Fine and dandy
Lord, it's like a hard candy Christmas
I'm barely getting through tomorrow
But still, I won't let sorrow bring me way down.

HA! From 1984! -

I honestly DO enjoy adaptation.  I love that people are different. I love that I live by me SS payday: just paid, best lasagna in town... two weeks in, "let's see, what can i get fairly cheap on the Mickey D app?  Three days before the midnight check arrival... "Ya know, I actually do kinda like this Great Value peanut butter." Day before 3rd Wednesday, "Ya know, these $1 Banquet Chicken Pot Pies are The Bomb!"

CHANGE: All about life.  Weather. Remotes. Balance in bank account. Daily situations. Oh the games people play. The golf we play. Undies (M, W, F, S). Tires. Oil. Zuck, Meta, Twitter, X, geezers in the White House...... tons.  Even the Royals.  Chiefs change roster, remain much the same.

Victor, you've written to much. Time to change to something else in your day.

That does it, I'm calling my Doc to get them anxiety pills again........

Ring, ring, ring........"TY for calling such-n-such Doctor, please press 1 for English."

I'm reminded of long ago.......... The 60's Victor?  No... a tad later. Ex and I took the bus across the border into Tiajuana, it ain't far. On the way home, we decided to go by Taxi. Reached the border, all I had was a fitty, which, back then, was a decent chunka change.  Handed it to driver "Ohhhhh, NO CHANGE NO CHANGE SENOR'!" 

I likes me some change.

Love, Victurd

Home cookin'.............

Whatever pleases your palate...  floats your boat.

Cooking.  'Structions, ie, recipes.  

I'm weird, but you knew that.  For sure I have weird eating habits, and, mebbe the same could be said about "take on life", likes, dislikes, huh uh - not that, SECONDS, yes please!

When we plan to devour that thing called life...... we pick and choose (go right ahead, call me judgmental) the 'ingredients of what's in our crock pot of life.

Ifn's we're going to a big gala (note, I ain't been to a big gala in a long, long time) we must get the book our (plan), find the ingredients... go to Piggly... buy... put groceries away... turn to page in book for that exact recipe.. read, reread, line up pots, pans, and mark, set, go, cook.

A wedding. A reunion. A Baptism. A loved one coming home from overseas for heap big family, friend party.  MUCH planning.  Tedious but worth it.  That group, The Undisputed Truth, I remember they sang "Smiling faces, smiling faces, sometimes, they don't tell the truth."  Well, scram there band because yummy, hella many ingredient meals, coinciding with a purpose, a love, loved ones - is YUMMY, that, is the undisputed truth.

Then, there are times, ya don't put on makeup... you don't wear a bra  (me neither).. ya throw on comfy clothes (not runway model clothes) and GO.  A last minute planned "yeah, lets."  LET'S means LET US.  This is akin to microwave cooking.

I'm a pickin' and I'm a grinnin.  We do do that when selecting where, what to eat away from home.  This kinda mealtime is like friends.  We want familiarity.  "It's always fun when we hang out with them", ie, akin to picking our fav' Ital, Mex, Chinese, greasy spoon, yada.  We go, do, eat, again and again. Over the years, if we don't make occasional pit stops to the gym or the high school track, we get fat and happy.  Oh well, certainly could be worse.

"If you are a chef, no matter how good a chef you are, it's not good cooking for yourself, the joy is cooking for others, the same with music."   will.i.am

Then, in life, there's mates.  Meals with mates.  Well planned, "I'm doing this for you because I love you" kinda meals.  Neatly arranged plates, forks, spoons.  Centerpiece with a candle providing just the right amounta light for them lean  in soft kisses.  Ulterior motive there Mister?  Well, this song came to mind.......

So rock me mama like a wagon wheel, 
Rock me mama anyway you feel
Hey mama rock me
Rock me mama like the wind and the rain
Rock me mama like a south-bound train
Hey mama rock me

The meal doesn't necessarily have to include pork in the ingredients but trust me, there's some piggy around somewhere!

Likes, dislikes.  I'm sorry, I just don't think I want to  selectively choose him/her to play golf with again.  ie, next time ya make a meal (tee time) from the recipe list, cut (parsley, sage, rosemary, thyme, kale, garlic, onion powder - whatever/whoever it is ya ain't gotta hankerin' for.

Damn you Victor, I know I've seen you say before here "I love all people."   Uh huh, do, but that don't necessarily mean I wanna sit by 'em in the golf cart, or at the Olive Garden, for hours upon hours.  You know, it's like Charlie.  Try as we/some might, there ain't no gettin' away from who we/some are.  VICTOR!  That's kinda uppity ain't it?  Exclusive?  Not no's, but hells nots.  I am FULLY aware, try as I might, some just don't like me.  I can deal with that. We can hang with who we wanna hang with, cook with what, how, we wanna.   "Sorry Charlie, Starkist does not want tunas with good taste, Starkist wants tunas that taste good."   Fancy for, more like me, us, fun, yummy, let's.. let's gather again, go, do, eat, same thing.

Victor, this is boring, you've got 45 minutes before you need to go to work, you still need gas, purchase something to take back home...  pun mebbe intended, PUT A LID ON IT.

Cooking, eating, choices, pickin', grinnin', it's all like life.  There for the choosing.  We are different. Similar. We filter.  We might throw in another pinch, tsp, tbsp, cup... we might not include things that our not to our liking (doesn't mean we protest, boycott, denounce - we just go another way.)

"Food, to me, is always about cooking and eating with those you love and care for."  David Chang

Victor, you're slipping.  A whole damn blog, not too many songs.

Day-O, day-o,come mister tally man, tally me banana....

Cheeseburger in paradise
Heaven on Earth with an onion slice
Not too particular, not too precise
I'm just a cheeseburger in paradise

Goodbye, Joe, he gotta go, me oh my oh
He gotta go-pole the pirogue go down the Bayou
His Yvonne the sweetest one, me oh my oh
Son of a gun, we'll have big fun on the Bayou

YOU tell 'em Hank, Jambalaya, I'll pat ma' foot and I really do gotta go to work.

Cook up a good day friends........

Love, Victurd

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I can dig it, he can dig it She can dig it, we can dig it They can dig it, you can dig it Oh, let's dig it

SATURDAY MAY 4....

I can dig it, he can dig it

She can dig it, we can dig it
They can dig it, you can dig it
Oh, let's dig it

HOW DOES YOUR OUTFIT LOOK?

Outfit?  Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...   May the 4th as in May the Force be with you?  Yeah I ain't decided yet... 'pends on the weather... if it's real hot, its fer sure I ain't gonna dress up like Chewbacca.... Prolly be same ole same ole Luke, or Han.. sumpin' like that...

NO, that's ain't what I meant about Saturday, May 4th.......

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, I get it, it's the KENTUCKY DERBY!  How could I forget!  I'm gonna dress LOUD!  There ain't nothing boring about Kentucky Derby attire.. . Mebbe a single or double breasted navy suit.. a silky light colored shirt under... and a HAT.. the Derbys all about the HAT!

And for ma' lady, oh baby, many choices..  THE HAT.  Yep, that. Howabout flamboyant, extra large? Yeah, that works!  Flowery..   then, of course, a dress..  mebbe a polka dot one.. or, flowery.. mebbe chunky heel shoes or wedge sandals for that balance of "looks cool, good on grass, turf, yada."

NO, that's ain't what I meant about Saturday, May 4th.......

I give up Victor, you're being difficult today.

I can dig it, he can dig it

She can dig it, we can dig it
They can dig it, you can dig it
Oh, let's dig it

Victor I toldya I'm giving up..... the hell are you talking about on Saturday, May 4?

Saturday is WORLD NAKED GARDENING DAY.

VICTOR!  I gotta warn ya.....  These 'Meta' folks (Facebook) ain't got much of a sense of humor.. ain'tya seen the latest warning?

    "Meta announces ban on cursing..

    We will begin the process of removing accounts that promote inappropriate humor and offensive language in May of 2024."

Well shiver me cucumbers,. I will try to be careful.  Let me tellya 'bout the birds and the bees and the flowers and the trees... and the moon up above, and a thing called "LOVE"...... VICTOR!  GARDENING, STICK TO GARDENING, NO "LOVE".

Drats.  OK, for starters.  Why not?  It's free.. ties one to nature (Careful Victor, don't be tying no one up).. we can be honest with who we are... (Ahm, Victor?  Ever notice mirrors don't give you a side or rear view, and I NEVER said anything about 'tiny implement'. You might not want that honesty being shown.)  

OK, let's see.. here's a book on Naked Gardening..  "avoid roses or anything with cacti.. " makes sense, might get pricked (VICTOR! I'M WARNING YOU!)..  OK then howabout 'might get poked'.. (AHM, NO. Not better, Meta's gonna boot you.)... and, let's see. ."avoid using power tools".. duh, "watch out for poisonous ivy and don't forget the sunblock!"  yeah yeah yeah... 

Hey Meta?  Listen up.. ALL this comes from the Farmer's Almanac and there's aplenty that are borderline breaky your rules.. BUT.. remember..  I got them at the YMCA. .no, that ain't it.. I got them from THE FARMERS ALMANAC, so don't boot me.  You know, things like "hoes, horticulture, even seeding.. companion planting..  direct seed.. double digging.. fertilizer.. hardening off, orga (VICTOR!).. I was just typing organic gardening, go stand in the shade, jeesh. "season extender.. topdressing.. "

I'd just better tiptoe through the tulips, carefully.  OK, off to garden.

Hey, you look nice today.  Thanks, you too.  Hey, where can I hang up my keys?   VICTOR!  YOU'RE POINTING!  Ahm, yeah?.. I was just pointing at that hook on the house right next to the screen door.  Honey?  Yeah? I'll behave.  I'm all done with sowing my wild oats.  I ain't all into whoever's got the biggest zuchinni.. (man, you can say 'that' again). HUH? Oh nuthin, said 'my hat fell off again.'

Here honey, you look hot.. take a sip.... GOOD GOSH.. is that double the vodka in there? Don't get no ideas there Old MacDonald... we're gardening.. sowing seeds, er, I mean, planting seeds.. DOH, I give up.. go startup the tiller, EIEIO.

This was a stupid idea (L&L is shaking his head right now saying "Damn straight it was!")..

I could never garden naked.  First, I'm ginger.  Second, I really don't like hats. Third, I HAVE seen myself in the mirror..  GOOD GOSH.. I like my neighbors, I don't wanna run 'em off.  Ain't got no mate, so, no companion planting, sharecropping....no green thumb.  

I gotta get my mind off of being naked out back. I'll get dressed then peek at the Kentucky Derby field... let's see...  Catching Freedom.. Just A Touch... Forever Young... Epic Ride..  well hell's bells this ain't helping.

Let's see... what else about May 4?   Hmmmm.. .it's National Fitness Day... .National Play Outside Day..  National Weather Observers Day.. National Wildfire Community Preparedness Day..  National Orange Juice Day....

OK, so.. I'm gonna do three jumping jacks (clothed, mind outta gutter).. go outside.. watch nature, the weather.. start a fire in the fire pit..  grab some OJ...  mebbe throw a little tequila in it.. and simply wait for Cinco de Mayo.

Salud...  Bottoms up..covered, or not.. or sumpin.

Love, Victurd