It would be kinda embarrassing trying to explain what an appetizer is to someone from a starving country. “Yeah, the appetizer. That’s the food we eat before we have our food … No, no, you’re thinking of dessert. That’s food we eat after we have our food.”
One of my insurance customers faxed over the police report from
an auto accident. Several weeks later, she called asking for information from that report.
“Didn’t you keep the original copy?” I asked.
“No,” she said. “I faxed it to you.”
I asked my brother-in-law, the
father of four boys, “If you had to do it all over again, would you still have kids?”
“Yes,” he said. “Just not these four.”
Asked to pick the worst year
ever, film director Peter Segal chose 1848, “the year gold was discovered at Sutter’s Mill. Until then, you could find a nice piece of land in California, pitch your tent, and call it home.
The housing market here has been
a living hell ever since.”
I was nine months pregnant and browsing at a garage sale when the homeowner asked me if I knew whether I was having a boy or a girl.
I told her I didn’t.
As I left a few minutes later, she yelled after me, “I hope you get the sex you want!”
When I announced that I was getting married, my excited mother said, “You have to have the rehearsal dinner someplace opulent, where there’s dancing.”
My father, seeing where this was heading, said, “I’ll pay you a thousand dollars to elope.”
“And you have to have a breakfast, for the people who are coming from out of town.”
“We’ll need a photographer. Oh, and what colors do you want for the reception?”
We eloped to Spain.
Here is the best-ever backhanded compliment from a kid about a present: “Dear Genie, thanks for the toy. I’ll play with it when I’m bored.”
My young son declared, “When
I grow up, I’m going to marry you, Mommy.”
“You can’t marry your own mother,” said his older sister.
“Then I’ll marry you.”
“You can’t marry me either.”
He looked confused, so I explained, “You can’t marry someone in your own family.”
“You mean I have to marry a total stranger?!” he cried.
One spring day I was taking the roll in my secretarial class at our local technical college. One of the sun worshipers was absent. “Cindy won’t be here this afternoon?” I asked.
“She went home to lay in the sun,” a young woman in the front row answered.
Trying to correct her grammar without embarrassing her before the class, I whispered, “Lie.”
“Okay,” she replied in astonishment. “Cindy got sick and went home.”
Every Easter our church stages an elaborate pageant. Last year the man who played Pontius Pilate had to work on the night of the dress rehearsal, and a chorus member substituted for him.
As we began rehearsing Pilate’s solo, the conductor stopped the orchestra. “Pilate, I don’t hear you,” he called out. “You’re not loud enough.”
“Pilate is at work,” a voice on the stage shouted back. “We’ve got our co-Pilate tonight.”
I had spent the late winter months waiting impatiently for signs of spring. When the first warm, sunny Saturday arrived, I eagerly unlocked the storm door and stepped onto our patio deck. I was pleased by the sight of green sprouts and the sounds of singing birds. More than anything else, I delighted in the sweet aroma of the spring air.
Knocking on the kitchen window, I beckoned to my wife to join me in enjoying the pleasures of the season. She quietly brought me back to earth when she reminded me that I was standing over the dryer vent, inhaling the scent of fabric softener.
My father was completely lost in the kitchen and never ate unless someone prepared a meal for him. When Mother was ill, however, he volunteered to go to the supermarket for her. She sent him off with a carefully numbered list of seven items.
Dad returned shortly, very proud of himself, and proceeded to unpack the grocery bags. He had one bag of sugar, two dozen eggs, three hams, four boxes of detergent, five boxes of crackers, six eggplants, and seven green peppers.
On the day I received my learner’s permit, my father agreed to take me out for a driving lesson. With a big grin, he hopped in behind the driver’s seat. “Why aren’t you sitting up front on the passenger’s side?” I asked.
“Kirsten, I’ve been waiting for this ever since you were a little girl,” Dad replied. “Now it’s my turn to sit back here and kick the seat.”
While flying from Denver to Kansas City, Kansas, my mother was sitting across the aisle from a woman and her eight-year-old son. Mom couldn’t help laughing as they neared their destination and she heard the mother say to the boy, “Now remember — run to Dad first, then the dog.”
My husband’s cousin married a former Marine who now works for United Parcel Service. They bought their four-year-old son two stuffed bears — one in a UPS uniform and the other in Marine garb. When the boy seemed confused, his father brought out a picture of himself in full Marine dress. “See, Connor?” he explained, pointing to the photo and then to the bear. “That’s Daddy.”
Connor’s eyes went from one to the other, and then he asked in a puzzled voice, “You used to be a bear?”
Father’s Day was near when I brought my three-year-old son, Tyler, to the card store. Inside, I showed him the cards for dads and told him to pick one.
When I looked back, Tyler was picking up one card after another, opening them up and quickly shoving them back into slots, every which way. “Tyler, what are you doing?” I asked.
“Haven’t you found a nice card for Daddy yet?”
“No,” he replied. “I’m looking for one with money in it.”
I decided to make myself useful and do a load of the family laundry. When I took the clothes out of the machine, I discovered — to my dismay — that I had also washed the watch my wife had given me while we were dating. “Don’t expect me to replace it,” she said later with an obvious lack of sympathy. By the time Father’s Day rolled around, however, she had relented and gave me a beautiful new watch. Attached was a note with this stipulation: “DRY-CLEAN ONLY!”
Good morning everyboomie.
Welcome too the weekend!
I had a great day. Got a lot done, but running kind of late this evening, as you can see.
We're supposed to be getting some rain tomorrow, and I'm expecting Beau to be delivered for a visit.
Hope you all have a happy day,and a great weekend.