Friday, August 4, 2023

Here we are again.

So many things come around again and again.  We expect some and even happily anticipate others.  I like Christmas.  My wife doesn't like the hoopla.  I've lived with that negativity for years.  Thanksgiving:  who doesn't like the day with family and specialized food.  I used to like it more; but, since this diabetes thing where I should not eat certain things, it has lost a bit of charm.  No pie or sweet potato covered in marshmallows.  Still I get a turkey leg and klubosniks.  

For years in my family - I mean all the way back when I was a little kid too - I got the drumstick.  Every year.  Every year.  I savored the treat.  Then, about, say 4 to 5 years ago, two of my granddaughters stated they wanted a drumstick as we sat down to eat.  There were only 2.  It made me a bit mad.  I tried to handle things correctly.  My true feelings were there.  

The next year, I bought an extra package of six drum sticks.  It was better.  I do try to be in place to grab one of the 8 drum sticks early.  With ornery children, you never know what has been plotted in the back smoky filled room.

So, certain days are anticipated.  We got that.  

Tomorrow, my wife and I have our 61st anniversary.  They do come around once a year.  61 years - that's a long time.  It wasn't all roses and lollipops.  On the average it was a pretty good run of sixty-one.  We drove off in my brother Marshall's 1962 light blue Ford convertible heading west for the Grand Canyon, HONEYMOON.  I was so naive.  Who would have thought you'd have to get a reservation to stay in main hotel of the Grand Canyon during the first week of August.  Never mind, though, we enjoyed the trip and didn't go broke.   Marshall loaned us his American Express card for the trip just in case.  Credit cards were foreign to us.  It was eye opening trip. in many ways.

Hopefully, we will make it to year 62.  Married in 1962 - celebrate #62 - that should be a bit noteworthy.  Bring on the dancing girls.

Taxes - birthdays - start of a new school year - Super Bowl - you can name so many repeaters.  My retired weeks and months roll around.  I pay my bills on a certain day.  We take out the trash on Thursdays.  My pitiful social security check comes on the 12th.  {side bar:  Texas teachers don't pay into social security - we have a retirement plan.  Thus, my few quarters of payments for various other jobs in the past, they do not amount to much.  Ten years teaching in Oklahoma got me 40 quarters.  Hey, the check  is not enormous.  I'm not giving it back.  Would you? }

My big issue of today, Friday.  The MEGA MILLIONS TAX.  That is what my son calls it when you buy a lottery ticket.  I think he was the one who said it.  I buy one ticket for $2.  That's a $2 tax since I never win the millions.  My own fault.  Stupid.  Very small chance of winning.  Tonight shows over a billion dollars.  I just have to pay my stupid tax.  Feel bad later about the waste.  My waist is another thing.

In my mind I have so many things I'd like to do with that money.  Scholarships to college.  Setup a company to disperse money out to certain high school bands who are always a bit behind the 8 ball, cash wise.  Gifts to certain lovely people I know.  The list is too long for here.  All of my family would become millionaires - not just my kids but nieces and nephew and brothers and who knows.  There are certain charities and religious groups who need my help.  I really "believe-In" places like the Methodist Children's Home in Waco and Boy's Ranch near Amarillo - gift to a past church choir -  the wife would never clean house again, Heck!! we could afford our own chef --

I've always wanted to open a museum of my junkie, worthless stuff.  Y'know, stuff nobody wants to see like my post card collection and stamps.  None have real value.

I bet in just this area, there are a hundred old guys with a worthless collection who are wondering what will happen to their collection of wickets after they die.  That's probably a waste of money.  So I babble.

I bet one of my few readers could come up with a million dollar project.  Perhaps, I could give $5000 to anyone who reads my blogs and actually leaves a comment.  

THAT is a rare commodity.

I close.  Time to go pay my tax and buy a big gulp.  The sun will come up, tomorrow, once again starting it all over again and again.


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