Before I start this post I'd like to share some good news.
I broke my arm in April & it didn't heal properly,
so I wasn't able to pull up my own underwear.
Until last week when I tried, I had this problem--but not with
my socks.
I can now pull them up by myself!!
(Sometimes
it's hard to decide on a favorite, so I may put in more than one.)
The best
set of hotel rules:
The best
outgoing phone message:
The
best truth in advertising:
The
best veterinarian’s sign:
The best title for a diet book:
The best way for retirees to amuse themselves:
The
best birdbath:
The best doormat:
The best exercise poster:
The best excuse for not cooking dinner:
The best way to prepare a turkey:
The best recipe correction:
The best advice for a cold cure:
The best request for marital advice:
The best marital advice from a man:
The best revenge (on a small child):
When Blake was about 2,
the kids were having lunch & I was at the sink, with my back to
them. He knocked over his glass & spilled his milk. I
wiped it up & poured him some more. He knocked over his glass
again, & again I wiped it up & poured him more. I warned him
not to do it again or he would be sorry. I watched him out of the
corner of my eye as he deliberately knocked it over one more
time. I picked up the gallon milk bottle (which had probably a quart
or so left in it) & emptied it on his head! Childish, I know,
but it made a beautiful waterfall—or, I guess, a milkfall. He didn’t
even cry—he just sat there with his little mouth hanging open in amazement as
the milk cascaded from his head. As far as I know, none of our kids
ever deliberately knocked over their milk again. Not while I was in
the room, anyway.
The best
name for a dog is "Dammit". Then you can say, "Here,
Dammit!", "Come, Dammit!", "Stay, Dammit!" or whatever
else you want (even around your minister)----fishducky
