BUNS OF STEEL ~ By Absolutely*Kate . . . #flash'fiction

~ BUNS OF STEEL ~

By ~ Absolutely*Kate

 

Naked men! Wooohoooo! Daddy didn't tell me it would be like this. I mean, I know the ground shakes and good play calls cause trembles and quakes, but I wasn't quite prepared for the Big Show, several days before the Curtain was set to rise again. Now this is something. Follow me in, will you? Watch where you walk, who you may bump into. It could get slippery. The greater the sheen when glory colours a power scene.

JUST THE RIGHT TOUCH

Power? Yes indeed. Raw, tough, glistening sweat like dripping diamonds elucidates the meander midst men more mesmerizing than mere mortals. Come, follow me. It'll be fun. I promise. Aren't they big? No, aren't they huge? Oh yes, size matters. So does force and finesse and this array of gallant undress. Naked heroes. The stuff magnificent dreams are made for.
 

NOTHIN' LIKE AN OPEN DOOR POLICY

They came a long way to get here. Wasn't always easy. Out and out challenging most of the time. The press dogged them and as they refined, they got fined. A lot. Too much, but that happens when you're in scapegoat heat. Always has, always will. But look at them ~ Aren't they splendid, these men of steel? They're in top form, at the top of their game, and huddle highest as the top o'the heap. They're simply super, aren't they? You reckon how many play patterns gain yardage with these kind of buffed forward passes? No clipping calls, no flags on the play. First and ten, do it again. Oooh, do it again! All red-zone baby!

Come on, let's go smile 57 different ways at Hines. He's delicious. Wanta get tangled up in Polamalu's tresses? They're insured, you know. Value always is. Whew, all this pressing the flesh just to get our story out this week is making me a little hot and thirsty. Why, I'd give the jersey of gold and black off my back for a Coke.

"Wow! Thanks Mean Joe."

BEST COMMERCIAL MESSAGE OF ALL TIME, RIGHT?

GO AHEAD. YOU KNOW YOU WANTA WATCH IT, AGAIN.

 

THIS HAS BEEN THE NAKED TRUTH,
REPORTING LIVE FROM
THE CONFLUENCE OF THREE RIVERS,
IN PITTSBURGH, PENNSYLVANIA ...

WHERE THE SPIRITS RUN HIGH
AND THE PASS RUSH DOESN'T GET BY.

"HERE WE GO STEELERS, 

HERE WE GO!"

(c) SuperBowl Weekend, 2011 ~ By Absolutely Steeler*Kate

Dedi'kated to the best Steeler fan of all worlds, Paul Pilarcik,

who's probably shaking his loveable head in heaven

that she told a sports story, sexy.

Sometimes

  you gotta cover

  all the angles

  to get into

 the end zone

Dear Dad,

I think you're the Best too.

Thanks for teaching me about football and the Steelers and Life and that the people who matter are our greatest riches in the world. They are.

Love,  

~ your kid Kate,

PAUL PILARCIK ~ OUT-STANDING IN HIS FIELD

proud to wave my

Terrible

Towel

this

Super

Sunday

 

Images: SteelBuns by Bootsie5000

Touch by CharlesFred, LockerRoom by PaintMonkey 

6 by Pit6Rings, ClassicHelmet by AndeeMcee

   

TOP FLITE ~ By Absolutely*Kate of Harbinger*33

ON THE GREEN ~ Pic ala kailavanfossan

TOP FLITE

By ~ Absolutely*Kate

It used to be Titleist. Then the urge came to pass on the desire for "The Ball Choice of the Tour Professional". He was. He is. Professional and personal in every scorecard stroke of the periphery. No bogeys. All class on the grass, be it rough or well-trimmed.

So that's what she bought him ~ for birthdays, for Christmases, Valentine's Days, and for Father's Day of course, she stayed the course. Pretty easy on the what-to-get purchase list, and a cinch to wrap in the funny parts from Sunday's paper or later in life, in appropo bright zingy wrapping paper with a cheery centered blue bow. She'd add other treats of course, chocolate covered peanuts, a sports or life intriguing book, yet another Pittsburgh Steelers' prized piece of paraphernalia, a framed creation . . . but the box of Top Flites was always and ever a best appreciated need that would get plenty of use, stir immense pride and strivings on long range driving. You could say this gift was par for the course. 

He gave her love and protection, insight through laughter and a life-long attraction towards the innate goodness in all people you come across in the adventure of a day. He took a Dale Carnegie course once during early supervisory Atlantic & Pacific Tea Company days and shared his homework when she eagerly waited up in skyblue PJ's for that night's exciting return. Oh how he loved excelling at learning each new idea, skill or thrill. He shared the seminar session's lessons - the fine art of association-memorization, the reinforcement of positive thought to action, and both of their favourites -- hitting a rolled up newspaper on the table in the morning, shouting out loud, "It's going to be a GREAT DAY!" Amazing how the enthuse of laughter accompanying any reach beyond mere normality . . . makes the desired outcome have all the better chances.

 

Fortune favours the prepared mind, and his always was, cliche-inclusive, working smarter not harder, knowing Lombardi's "It's not whether you get knocked down, it's whether you get up" that counts. He stayed up, never complained nor let loose a negative thought. He encouraged without words, and his words were his noble bond.

He teased and he pleased. He was loved for 57 married and 3 dating years by his devoted Franny and forever onward by she and their thriving jiving five. He listened; he let you think your way through your thinking and then released the ultimate trophy: "Now you got it Kid!" He worked right alongside you before silently disappearing, getting you started in whatever job made something better at where you were at - picking up the front yard's grass-cuttings, stocking and blocking A&P shelves, painting a room, changing a tire, hosing your first prized red camauro, or his oft prized red tomatoes, peppers, cantaloupes and strawberries. He was garden, golf, gridiron, great father, grandfather, guts, gumption and grins. Oh those grins.

Got 'em inside me now.

So many folks ~ the kind he'd really want to have amble over to his back patio in Ohio for a cup of coffee and a poured conversation have reached me, the giver of Top Flites, about the legacy this semi-pro golfer and this all-pro Dad, hero and best friend has planted to grow on within me.

Thank*God they're right.

I'm goin' par for the course now too.

My father, Paul Pilarcik, lived vibrantly through the last day of summer, his season. Now that vibrancy, that spirit of strength lets me and swell-meaning multitudes know what Camus wrote is legacy-reality in Top Flite trajectory: 

   

"I finally knew in the depths of winter

there was within me

an invincible summer."
  

With still fresh tears, my gratitude is going long and going the distance, precious friends and treasured colleagues, in the way Paul would, from that always welcome patio ~ wholeheartedly.
   

Tis Top Flite soaring
  I was taught Life is all about.

I know it to be true ~

I wholeheartedly wish it unto you.

~ Absolutely*Kate, 
Paul's first kid

STAMP OF APPROVAL ~ By Paul's Kid, Absolutely*Kate

BEST PATIO ON EARTH ... KATHLEEN PILARCIK PHOTO

STAMP OF APPROVAL

 
My Dad's Paul Pilarcik. 
 

He taught me football. 
 

He taught me Steelers.
 

All I had to do was sit in the living room

and watch TV with him. 
 

Oh yeah, and I had to be quiet too. 
 

I sure did learn a lot though. 
 

About more than just football too. 
 

THANKS DAD. 

 
Love, 

~ Absolutely your Kate
 

 

"IT'S NOT WHETHER

YOU GET
KNOCKED DOWN.
IT'S WHETHER
YOU GET UP."

~ Coach Lombardi

one of the heroes of my Hero

~ A*K

WHAT DO YOU RECALL ABOUT YOURS? ~ By Paul Pilarcik's laughin' lovin' daughter, Absolutely*Kate

That's my Dad ~ Paul Pilarcik.
( That's not me next to him, but that's my Dad! ) 

Dad?

Well what comes to mind is ~ 

*All our dogs were named Happy.

*Roberto Clemente and Terry Bradshaw were our heroes.

*Summers held vanilla ice cream in scooped out canteloupes and catching lightening bugs in the lawn at Grandpap's in Perryopolis, PA and goin' barefoot with sparklers in the back yard on the 4th of July.

*I watched people from over 50 Ohio A&P stores respect with affection and work hard out of desire for this warm and  open supervisor guy who always was "one of them".


*I knew laughter and golf scores that made him semi-pro and love for family and believing you could make anything possible and "Work Smarter not harder" and "You never know until you ask", of course.

*I grow my gardens all the greater no matter where I live, because of his.
 

*My love, the Prof has traveled the world many, many times. Once he asked me, "Where's one of the finest places you've ever been?" I didn't hesitate. "On the patio in Vienna, Ohio with coffee in hand . . . next to my Dad."


*I never knew a complaint or a negative word.

That's my Dad. Paul Pilarcik. 
Greatest man I know.  

~ Absolutely*Kate Pilarcik

HAPPIEST FATHER'S DAY DAD

and to all you Dads out there

and to all the Moms and Kids who made'em so! 


Now, what do YOU recall
about YOURS?

Lady Moon ~ by Robert Morschel of Harbinger*33

 Lady Moon

                                   ~ by Robert Morschel

Liesel turned to me. “Dad?”

“Uhuh?”

“Why do they say there is a man in the moon?”

We were sitting in our back garden, sipping cocoa and staring up at the incandescent moon above us.

“Well”, I replied, “I suppose it is because if you look carefully you can see two eyes, a mouth, ...”

“I know that, Dad,” she interrupted, sardonic in the way only a female teenager can be, “but why is it a man and not a woman? I mean, those eyes are heavily made up, and if you look carefully to the sides there is even a hint of rouge!”

I chuckled. I suppose she had a point, and said so, which pleased her immensely - she was like her mother in that regard: she liked to be right. 

We sat silently, gazing at our Lady Moon, enjoying each others company, dad possibly more than daughter, but I am not proud: somewhere around the age of thirteen Liesel stopped being my little princess, and turned into this slightly detached woman-daughter of mine, so I was grateful for the moment.

Suddenly she stirred, interrupting my reverie, and got up stretching. “I think I'll go to bed now.”

“Ok, my love,” I replied. “Call me when you're ready for me to tuck you in.”

She looked at me awkwardly. “It's OK, Dad. You keep an eye on Lady Moon for us. You know what she's like.”

I smiled, though my heart wrenched at the same time. “Night, Sweetie. Sleep tight.”

I watched her as she walked off, noticing for the first time a little feminine sway of her hips. How quickly she was growing up. Lady Moon continued to beam benevolently on me, offering some comfort to my bruised emotions. I looked up at her.

“Well, there you are,” I said. “My little girl is turning into a young woman. What have you to say about that?”

She did not answer, but I sensed that she understood.


LADY MOON REPLIES IN THE TALE WHICH FOLLOWS
THE GOOD HYPE ON OUR ROBERT MORSCHEL . . . 

 (c) Robert Morschel, 2009 ~ of Harbinger*33, where . . . when you're very fortunate, you'll read MORE!

* * * * * *
Robert Morschel, known as well to readers well as Mulled Vine is both fine vintage and churning thought. He'll take a train to a reality based place in his world, and put laptop to lap, and out will pop musings and impressions which splash an unfathomable depth to ponder. Oh how this wry-guy will make your inner-grin happen. Oh how this tender man will pluck at your heart strings in his on target views of the humanity he comes to view . . . and share with you. Sir Robert (to me) has writing which can ne'er be suppressed. His ink is his lifeblood ~ and therein', dear gentle reader we receive just reward.


LADY MOON is to be a series, a luminary collective philosophy between planets and thoughts and hearts and minds. Watch for it, as it continues to pluck at higher truths and higher selves out under any night sky. Honoured am I to once again duet with distinction and class which is this author's innate trademark upon writing walls we scrawl.

Aboard the mighty ship Harbinger*33, Robert Morschel is really a pirate. It didn't take that gasping parrot shoved in the oaken sea chest leaving the feathery tail trail that Michael Solender astutely reported, rather than NOT. Peggy found the spare peg leg - a natural deduction. None of this escaped Leon's private eye. The eye patch though didn't turn up for a fortnight at sea. You see, Jodi thought it a slingshot and was having a non-scurvy of a time with her limes, until Harry swiped it back to its natural owner, which inspired Paul to write a bloody tell-tale of the purloining crime, and Jeanette whispered a ladylike thing or two to Jodi while Laurita tittered. (She did, she tittered). Mike found this all very fine fodder for song lyrics and ignored Mongo to become a new Gilligan.

What's that? More? More Mulled Morschel of the meandering vine mind ~ Step softly into  MULLED VINE < right here. Then without fear, peer into what A DIARY OF AN OLD FART has to suggest about our peer.

Topsail thanks to you my trusted friend Robert . . . True inspiration happens all the more when you reach in and splash around across a mere pond, where a grand mind is flowing. A deux avec vous always is so true. Vraiment! Toujours! Honoured we all are that your mulling talents are aboard Harbinger*33, sailing to its publishing journey of manifesting destinies.

~ Introspection and knowing smiles which see; FairWinds, Favourable Seas
~ Absolutely*Kate + readers remembering Mulled voice all the more