You were on my mind...

 When I woke up this morning

You were on my mind...
And
You were on my mind

And when you were, I thought how dadgum cool is that? Not only are we unique in our favorites in the fridge, but where, when, how we sleep, the size, location(s) of our TV's, whatintheheck is parked in our driveways, garages, who we live with, if anyone.... and WHERE....

To me, that's the amazing part. The sun comes up at different times, the terrain don't look like anyone elses...there's cul-de-sacs, circles, gated communities, condos, apartments, acreage.  Somehow, we're sewn together.

I got troubles, whoa-oh
I got worries, whoa-oh
I got wounds to bind

Who ain't? We face it in varying ways.  Most, glue a dadgum smile to our face, some, groan a little, then others bitch, BLOG and holler things like AND SO IS YOUR OLD MAN...I'M A PEOPLE PERSON for behoogity sakes, and, KEEP YOUR DAMN WIFFLE BALL OUTTA MY YARD!

So I went to the corner
Just to ease my pains
Just to ease my pains

Yes, I DO go to the Corner, but it prolly ain't like you're thinking. Some read, some nap, medicate, Netflix binge, crank the stereo (they still make them damn things?)  

I got troubles, whoa-oh
I got worries, whoa-oh
I came home again

We do do that. Home is happy, sad, uplifting, depressing, ours, theirs, comfy, in general though, when ya turn the car engine off, it's a nice feeling to get there.

But I woke up this morning
You were on my mind...
And
You were on my mind

Because what better place to come to, to say, perhaps without saying, I like you, love you, kinda understand what you go thru daily, am there for you, I'm glad to hear your stories, and I guess it's pretty obvious, I dump mine on you. Coffee makes me dump, very poor pun.  Sorry, kinda, BUT, it reminds me, maybe you too.....

We are different,  and that's OK. What's fun to one might be revolting to another. Some mighta even left after the dump pun, no sh*t. VICTOR! YOURE PUSHING IT A TAD!

Of course, we do do that, but we still kinda, how you say it Aretha? R-E-S-P-E-C-T one another. Life is all about: me too..OMG!...For real?...I was thinking the same thing... YOLO... The Golden Rule.. Never in my wildest dreams.. (Hmm., mebbe a blog for another day!)

Yeah, I got troubles, whoa-oh
I got worries, whoa-oh
I got wounds to bind

Uh huh..  on a scale of 10, our physical, mental, emotional pain can be 1, 4, 7, 9, just like you.

Hey, I got a feelin'
Down in my shoes...
Said uh
Way down in my shoes...

I ain't never shot a rabbit nor worn cowboy boots, but by all means, you go-ahead and 2 step, then have a little stew. That's a croc, mebbe their kinda shoe. Barefoot in the park works too.

Yeah, I got to ramble, whoa-oh
I got to move on, whoa-oh
I got to walk away my blues

RAMBLE? Victor, be for real, you write/blog, like to the tune of 1300 of em or so. Yeah, prolly.

When I woke up this morning
You were on my mind...
And
You were on my mind...

Hey, I got troubles, whoa-oh
I got worries, whoa-oh
I got wounds to trolly.

The point is (THANK GOODNESS YOU FINALLY ARRIVED HERE VICTOR)...

I like you. You're not exactly like me. Somehow, I think you feel the same way.

Hopefully we can have some nice rests.  Awaken ((TGLW) after the election, a Winter of potholes, no matta who wins the World Series, Super Bowl, Best Actor/Actress, whateva' the Farmers Almanac lends us... we find, in spite of difference, we ALL can get along, and we'd hear that voice'a singin' (Louie, I think it was)

And I said to myself, what a wonderful world.

Love Victurd

VICTOR?  Huh?  Just yesterday I heard you get kinda short with a coworker. Uh huh, I am human, hear me snore, roar, fart, be profane  (whoaaah, a new side to Victurd), yeah. Sorry. Mostly. I do worry, but, eventually fall asleep at night with that reminder, I am human, just like you.

If you're happy and you know it.......

Clap your hands

Yeah yeah yeah...  I am that.  Strainers, I likes them.  Ya can rinse rice, strain stocks and broth...and make smooth creamy sauces.  Victor?  Like, you don't do that.  Right you are, guilty.  I am happy for the strainer of old age in that, things that usedta get stuck (in my brain), now, thanks to "huh uh, I am no longer lettin' crap like that bug me', don't.

If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands

Bluejays, Royals, Chiefs, WJC Cardinals, STL Cardinals (bite me, my folks were fans).. Victor, quit being grumpy, use the strainer, if you're gonna talk the talk, sift the walk there friend.

If you're happy and you know it
Then your face will surely show it
If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands

Face, YES.  The heck is better'n an oncoming smile?  A dadgum doggy'a walkin', they are ALWAYS happy... a smile is the Mercurochrome to bad news, feeling badly, a buddy without a smile... and, simply for no reason at all.

If you're happy and you know it, stomp your feet.  I/we can still do that.  Kinda.  Old age, stomp = tap.  Tap is good. Any/every small/big town in 'Merica.. .the fans... they sit in them bleachers.. the indoors are usually wooden ones, the outdoors are normally of the aluminum variety.. and, thanks to Queen's We Will We Will ROCK YOU - they stomp.  Ya been to a high school game of any variety in the last fitty years?  Try it, you'll like it... (I highly recommend HS and Jr HS plays too, yum, talented kids) and... most school districts let old farts in free. That makes me, and fellow geezers, happy, wanna clap our hands, stomp our feet. 

If you're happy and you know it, stomp your feet
If you're happy and you know it
Then your face will surely show it
If you're happy and you know it, stomp your feet

The dance floor, mark, set, git ur butt up.  In the car, the floorboard, crank music, stomp away (but not the gas pedal.)

If you're happy and you know it, shout hurray (hurray)

If a friend tells ya something that pumps them up, holler HURRAY!  If a little one, mebbe a grandkid, for the 37th time that day, says, "Grandpa (or grandma, or aunt, uncle, yada) WATCH THIS! And after you watch, holler HURRAY!  It'll not only makey you happy, but, them too!

If you're happy and you know it, shout hurray (hurray)
If you're happy and you know it
Then face will surely show it
If you're happy and you know it, shout hurray (hurray)

Well...
You know you make me wanna (shout)
Kick my heels up and (shout)
Throw my hands up and (shout)
Throw my hands back and (shout)
Come on now (shout)

VICTOR.  YOU CANNOT HAVE TWO SONGS WITHIN ONE BLOG.  (Strain, strain, scram dude!)

If you're happy and you know it, do all three (hurray)

Can you juggle?  Do all three at once?  Hell, if ya can't, then try smply rubbing your head and patting your belly - OR, vice versa.  Wanna have even more fun?  Ask a little snotnose to try the rub head, pat belly thing...they never get it right the first time, but that will make you happy and wanna clap your hands, stomp  your feel, should hurray. If you really wanna impress me, say, 'Unique New York', 3 times, REAL fast.

If you're happy and you know it, do all three (hurray)
If you're happy and you know it
Then your face will surely show it
If you're happy and you know it, do all three (hurray)

Lots.  Lots make me wanna do all three.  A crisp autumn day like today, yum. The tips of the trees they're'a turnin', yippy.  A heavenly breakfast out amongst friends, of, if by one's lonesome - like I was a few minutes ago.. the people watching. Happy. Clap. Stomp.  Hurray.

Rain. Lasagna.  No dirty laundry in the basket, or, on Facebook. A text, phone call, email, messenger thingy from (or to) a friend.  Touch.  Touch is good. Happy. Clap. Stomp. Hurray.

The one in every 27 times I hit a golf ball and it goes exactly as I visualized. Your child parenting.  Sunrises, sunsets. "Coffee ready."  Hitting the hay from what little causes exhaustion as an old fart, but dadgum it feels good to get prone.

I'll go now.  Pee I mean.  That makes me happy.  Plumbing. Plumbing is important. Even if ya leave the R out (impotant, sp, I know) it's important.

What makes you happy?

Ifn's ya are, are ya too much of a skeerdy cat to clap about it in public?  Stomp your feet "only for the young'ns?".. Hurray still in your vocabulary?  I hope so.

Life is good, happy... but only if we hop up outta the dugout...... grab a bat, head to the on deck circle.. it's now our time to bat.

Put me in Coach...... I'm ready to .... smile, clap, stomp, holler hooray.

Love, Victurd

Who the heck is Wilbert?

Wilbert... Wibert Harrison, that's who the the heck, he wrote this song.

What song?

Kansas City, THAT song.

Victor, we've been thru this. No one cares about KC like you do. Whaddaya say to that?

Just hop off the bus Gus. Make a new plan Stan. Go to the nude beach, sleep on your back, get a sunburn, I don't care. Go do the NYT crossword puzzle, that'll keepya occupied for a year.  

I'm going to Kansas City, Kansas City here I come
I'm going to Kansas City, Kansas City here I come
They got some crazy lil' women there
And I'm gonna get me one.

Well Wilbert, with this 7 game losing streak, that (gettin' you a woman) wasn't my first thought.

I'm gonna be standing on the corner
Of Twelfth Street and Vine
I'm gonna be standing on the corner
Of Twelfth Street and Vine
With my Kansas City baby
And a bottle of Kansas City wine.

Drink whatever wine you want Wilbert. That Winking Owl crap is cheap at Aldi's, aint bad. We're a moderate, modest City, Lotta folks here do that box wine stuff.

And oh, Wilbert, BTW, the ballpark ain't downtown yet. Hop on I-70, go a few miles East.  We're sinkin', need all the fan support we can get.  It (the 7 game losing streak) is only a flesh wound, nuttin' a little Salv can't heal, right Senor' Perez?

Well I might take a train
I might take a plane, but if I have to walk
I'm going just the same
I'm going to Kansas City, Kansas City here I come
They got some crazy lil' women there
And I'm gonna get me one.

Dangit Wilbert, ya don't need no train, plane, you're only like 5 miles from the ballpark. Heck, everything is up to date in Kansas City, fetch an Uber or a Lyft.

Oh but you know yeah

Now if I stay with that woman, I know I'm gonna die
Gotta find a brand new baby
That's the reason why
I'm going to Kansas City, Kansas City here I come

Whatever Wilbert, we just need to turn this thing around. They've heard all year "you can't do it, heck you only won fitty-six games last year."  Nope, huh uh. Team meeting, pass out a ton of 'Q Tips', get that crap outta your ear.

They got some crazy lil' women there and I'm gonna get me one

They got some crazy lil' women there and I'm gonna get me one
They got some crazy lil' women there and I'm gonna get me one

You do you Wilbert, it's all good. Hey guys?  Crank a little Aerosmith. Wacha This Way mebbe. Thin Lizzy, right Issie? Mebbe Maikel Row The Boat Ashore? Howabout We Are Phamily, eh Tommy? McArthur Park?

To git ridda the vermin (right Fermin) we gotta start with a Sethoscope. Need a shrink? Call in Frazier.

We don't need no stinking badges, or, a Lynch mob...a Lynchpin will do, Si, Daniel?

Chow down first, maybe some Foot Longs (Sam, you grab em), try a little DeJong mustard atop...some Cole slaw... give em allya got. Build the bodies, start Loftin homers.

It's far from over. We ain't heard no fat lady Singer.

Levity. Mebbe we just need some humor, Witt, eh Junior?

Maybe I should've been a cowboy, not a blogger.

Let's win today, go back to Kansas City tomorrow for a Chief's win (Mahomes, Mahomes on the range)

Thanks for not swattin' me.

Anybody here, seen my old friend Pasquatch?

Love, Victurd

(Blog done on Android phone using 71 yr old eyes, sorry about quality, lack thereof.)

Cook book........ life......... Baby Elephant walks

When I lived with that one lady....(VICTOR!  You lived in sin?) I suppose that's what they call it. 

Our eyes, ears, (nostrils?) were trained to The Cooking Channel, #fitty-two, I think it was.  We'd watch contests 'tween old people, kids, couples, yada... Chopped I think they called it. They were given certain ingredients - had a time limit to cook a concoction from all those.  Then, they'd crown a winner winner Chicken dinner (or pork, beef, leg'a lamb, that stuff.)

They didn't, don't use no cookbooks... they mostly wing it..... blanch, braise, broil, chop, baste, poach, fry, roast, dice, boil, brown, beat, blend - you get the idea.

Blogging ain't hard, honest it ain't. All bloggers do - is, snatch up the ingredients, then, wing it, be that blanch, braise, broil, chop, baste, poach, fry, roast, dice, boil, brown, beat, blend - you get the idea - and then it's Uber Eats, or Grubhubbed, or DoorDashed, to one's inbox.

 

After all that, you, the blog reader 'pretend food eater' person has/have options. (I get tense and ain't real sure about 'tenses') Uno, you can CHOP at any moment. Like if you read two paragraphs and your eyelids can't stay open, by all means, chop me, or any other blogger you might fall asleep by.  Dos, you can read, then say things to yourself like "ha ha" or, "I didn't know that" or tres, you ain't gotta do nuttin.'

Ingredients below.  Stolen, like any, every blogger.  Then, bloggers bland, braise, broil, VICTOR - we heard you the FIRST and SECOND time.  On with your ingredients, perty please.

Hero.  Hero is a hero.  She saved 36 dogs, a chicken and a cat from a life of neglect and suffering.  WOW!  Was Hero an Animal Control Officer?  A person who rescues hounds? An EMT, firefighter? That? No.  Hero is a Bassett Hound.

Hero ran away from the home where all the animals were abused.  She had an ID tag that led animal control officers to the residence to find horrific living conditions.  “Some were in small cages, some sleeping on feces in beds, some had injuries, several were emaciated. They were filthy. Most had medical issues.”.

The local Humane Society took in 15, some were assisted by 'Rescues', the community gathered funds for medical treatment for all........ many have fully recovered, been adopted out.  Hero, "at least ten years old, if not a couple years beyond that. We've given her a name that's worthy of her and a last name of Salvare, which means to save and protect. She's an incredibly sweet and easy going girl that just wants to spend her time cuddled up on her blankets or in the company of someone. She's slow and gentle on a leash and loves to go for short walks so she can feel fresh air and sniff around. She's friendly with any and everything she meets; greeting them with the softness of a sweet old lady."

Happy to announce, Hero has been adopted out. You go girl!

Whiskas.  Who?  Whiskas.  Whiskas was a kitten found by the RSPCA in Scotland in 2007. Soon after, she was adopted by Linda Ellerton of the UK..  Six years later, gone, vamanos..no trace.  Looked and looked, put up fliers, nuttin'. After considerable time, and hope given up........Linda and her family moved.

Scroll to ten years later, Linda could hardly believe here eyeballs when she saw a FB posting from a vet's office nearby where they used to live...... showing a picture of Whiskas, now 16, AND, they related she had an old RSPCA microchip. "Never EVER thought I'd see her again!"

Holy guacamole.  Could it be?  NUH UH.  UH HUH, twas, is.  RSPCA Inspector David Dawson described the scene when Linda and Whiskas hooked back up..  “It was pleasing that we were able to reunite Linda with Whiskas after all these years. She had a cuddle with her and it was very emotional to see.”

HERE KITTY KITTY.  

I found more good crap searching through the Positive News.  I won't put you to sleep with all, but, a few 'ingredient' headlines:

Meet the man who plays the piano for rescue elephants

Woman who escaped Afghanistan is reunited with her dog one year later in Canada.

Snoring Pit Bull wins best in rescue on the The American Rescue Dog Show.

Fifteen year old rescue dog adopted after being returned after 12 years

Baby elephant is reunited with her mother three years after being taken.

(HEY... you...if you're still awake... let's end this happy sappy good news crap blog by thinking, 'listening in our brain' to that song, The Baby Elephant Walk!)

I'm a dang picky eater.  Some stuff in a Cook Book, nope, I won't even try.  Much, there is much, that can be concocted in life that is yummy however.

Have a yummy day,

Love Victurd

Something about W.............

Five of 'em me thinks.

Who

What

Where

When

Why

Who.  Well, he's on first.

What. I said "who" is on first.  What is on second.

Where. Where?  Second base is over there... but, there is no 'Where' in the Abbott/Costello Script.

When.  Ain't a when on the field either, but, A&C first performed this on Kate Smith's radio show (Who?), Kate Smith..  WHEN?  I'm trying to tell you...  in March of 1938.

Why.  I'll tell you Why.  (First, Why is in leftfield). Why.  I dunno, the manager put him there.

What. Take my wife............. please!  WHAT?  What's on second.  Henny Youngman (The "take my wife... please!" guy.. was a regular on Kate's show.  Henny got an offer from Paramount Pictures in Hollywood,, wanted to bootscoot, but, Kate's producer said "You gotta get a replacement before you go". Henny went to Loews State Theater (Where?... it's not important... )  What (second base) IS important - is that he saw A&C perform the "Who's on first" act there..  Who?  He's on first, but yes, A&C.  Recomended them, the rest is history.  Why?

Why Ask Why is a book by John Mason (Who?) John Mason.. the book contains seventy thought-provoking questions to find answers to building a better life. To go where you want to go, you have to ask the right questions.  Who?  Anyone. We beg of you Victor, please don't give us the entire list. K, won't. 

Which of course, brings me back to sunny Mehico.  Who? Me.  Why?  Why is actually the fifth of the (WhoWhatWhereWhenWhy) W questions, but since you asked so nicely, I went because I needed a life break.  What?  What's on second... but, a life break.  Ain't you ever needed one?  Who?  YOU!

I'd done studied some Spanish.  Even signed up for some free site to learn a little more.  They were kinda pushy (Who?.. I think it was Babbel).. so, I backed off... figured "Most everyone else that will be there will be in the same boat as me, I ain't gonna worry about the language..  surely, a vaca town, most will speaky the English."

So.............  back to Bodega.  What?  What is on second, but, had you paid attention yesterday.. (Who?_..you!).. Bodega is Mehico's version of WalMart. And, of course, I had to pee. Who? Me. Why?  Because it's what old men do.  We pee. Often. So......... I walk in the door.  I see many many people.  I find one with a blue Bodega top on... (TBC)

And ask, "Restroom?"  Lady (an attractive lady, mind you) gave me a smile, but, the smile was accompanied with...  you know how when you're talking to your hound pooches and they kinda turn their head (silently) as if they're trying to understand what you're saying (who? ME. I had to pee)..  anyways, "restroom" didn't work.  Neither did Bathroom.  I didn't try toilet, washroom, latrine, Loo, can,.,, and of course, had I said "John" she mighta taken me to some guy named Juan. (TBC)

I, we, (Who? Me) had reached the point of doing the pee pee dance, which, in Mehico I presume is kinda like a Mehican jumping bean....  they (Who?  kind lady and another dude, Juan mebbe) took their phone, tried translation, nope, no help.  My face red now.  I'm certain they (Who?  Kind lady and Juan) were laughing internally because this 70-something gringo was now jogging in place.

I thought about taking my finger, putting it down there (Where?..you know) to demonstrate peeing, but, I knew, if they'd arrest you and fine you on the spot for running onea them Alto stop sign things, the penalty for pretending your finger was a penis would cost boo koo pesos.

Somehow... miraculously, they ciphered what (What? He's on second) I (Who? Me, who's on first, but I had to #1).. needed... they led me there. (Where?  to the "El Bano" I learn it's called) and I made it by the hair of my menny menn mentón.  (Huh?)  Huh ain't one'a the 5 W's, but..  menton is Chin in Spanish.

We're bored, so, I suppose this is where you finally put us to sleep by relating what the 5 W's are in Spanish.  Ahm, mebbe.

'

qué ("what"), cómo ("how"), quién ("who"), dónde ("where"), cuándo ("when"), cuánto, cuánta ("how much"), cuántos, cuántas ("how many"), and por qué ("why").

Victor'?  Si?  Por qué?

That's a very good question, and one that I ain't got an answer to.  Sorry.  I think maybe I'm loco.

WHO?  (You..) 

WHAT? (thank you for being here, reading)

WHERE? Comprobar la luz del motor (Check engine light)

WHEN?  (Now, the very minute you clicked the link)

WHY? (Because I like you)..... M-O-U-S-E (ratón)

Victor.......... you're nuts.

Eh, I reckon.

Love, Viczurullo  (Uh huh, zurullo is turd in Spanish.  Always flush, don't drink the aqua.)

The way we.............. were? Are?

Memories
Like the corners of my mind
Misty watercolor memories
Of the way we were

Scattered pictures
Of the smiles we left behind
Smiles we gave to one another
For the way we were

Can it be that it was all so simple then?
Or has time rewritten every line?
If we had the chance to do it all again
Tell me, would we, would we,
Could we, could we?

Memories
May be beautiful and yet
What's too painful to remember
We simply choose to forget

Can it be that it was all so simple then?
Or has time rewritten every line?
If we had the chance to do it all again
Tell me, would we, would we,
Could we, could we?

Memories
May be beautiful and yet
What's too painful to remember
We simply choose to forget

So it's the laughter
We will remember
Whenever we remember
The way we were
The way we were

I miss you baby

The way we were

The way we were

I miss you so much baby

I miss the way we were....

Poems are hard.........

That they are.  See my car?

It's a 2002, don't mean nuttin' to you...

Twas (2002) a tumultuous time in my life..... a separation from her, my wife.

Divorce would soon follow that looooooooooooong separation....

Figured the cure was, worry, frought, biting nails, libation.

Me, me, me, me, me, me, me.......

Red hair, freckles M+ student, did I mention pee, pee, pee?

Some sit.......... they read........ atop the fence......

Victor, of your writing, it's hard to make sense.

Uh huh, I know...  brb, I've got to go.

This all started with lard.  Please (we think) tell us more, our brains will guard.

Mehico.  Puerto Penasco to be exact. Grocery store labels, a hunnerd percent in SPANISH, no idea how to react.

All we wanted.... was sugar for our cereal.  We'd find a box, bag, can, shake it, try to determine the material.  

No speaky (or read) the language...  can/does/did, cause much anguish.

It was our first day........ to be there for weeks and weeks.  Thankfully buddy Tip, 6'5" or so, I felt safe a few aisles over, as I could see his head whenever I'd peeks.  (I know that don't rhyme, I do that, sadly, all the time.)

"I FOUND IT!" he said.........

Visions of Cinamon Toast Crunch in my belly, ran thru my head.

Up front to pay..  Peso, conversion....... hella easy to confuse...........

Had a 1,000 bill in my pocket.. tall cotton... turns out, only worth $69 US to use.

Wally World in Mehico ain't called that. It's called Bodega.

Only thing I got, is the old aluminum block Vega.

We drove with caution.  Many questions did stem, mainly, the hell is a KM?

A hunnerd and forty-three stop thingys (ALTO SIGN)

We made it.  Ya gotta come to a full stop, if ya ain't, the Policia Federal stop, on the spot, ya gotta pay fine.

Back to Condo.  Let Millie out for El Bano. 

(Millie is hound pooch.) I learn, hard way, bathroom (El Bano) from some guy name Alejandro.

Unload groceries, twas kinda lame.  Labels on each, heck, we didn't know the name.

I got me a bowl.  Readied the milk, thoughts couldn't stop,

Come on Cinny Toast Crunch... Snap Crackle Pop. 

Grabbed the sugar we'd got from the store.

Cut it open, ready to pour.

Cut the bag open, I was gettin' my groove,

Tilted to pour, but... . it didn't move.

Twas then and there, 

as my buddy Tip and I did glare.....

That ain't sugar, nope, huh uh, it's not.

The hell is it?  Whadda we got?

Lard.

See?  Poems are hard.

By Enrique Gibson

Love, Victor'