Sally in The MIX

Friday, October 21, 2016

Marriage Advice from Someone Who Should Know Better

My good friends, Carrol and Linda Copeland who many of you probably know, celebrated their wedding anniversary Saturday.

I was not able to attend their anniversary party. It’s a Saturday. I stay in old sweats, and sometimes bed, on Saturdays. But I felt guilty so I offer the following, captured off the internet, as a gift. I hope they laugh.

-A husband and wife were celebrating 50 years of marriage with a big anniversary party. At one point they were toasted, then asked what it’s like to be married for 50 years. The wife, known to have a quick wit, replied, “It all seems like five minutes....under water.”

-“We always hold hands. If I let go, she shops.” 

-Love is blind but marriage is an eye-opener.

-“My wife and I were happy for 25 years. Then we met.” – Rodney Dangerfield

-“A good wife always forgives her husband when she’s wrong.” – Milton Berle

-“I was married by a judge. I should have asked for a jury.” – George Burns

-After a quarrel, a wife said to her husband, “I was a fool when I married you.” The husband replied, “Yes dear, but I was in love and didn’t notice.”

-When a man steals your wife, there’s no better revenge than to let him keep her.

-A man said his credit card was stolen but he decided not to report it because the thief was spending less than his wife.

-Man is incomplete until he marries. Then he is finished.

-The most effective way to remember your wife’s birthday is to forget it once.

-Words to live by: Do not argue with a spouse who is packing your parachute.

-Marriage is the triumph of imagination over intelligence. A second marriage is the triumph of hope over experience.

-If you want your spouse to listen and pay absolute attention to every word you say, talk in your sleep.

-When a married man says, “I’ll think about it,” what he really means is that he doesn’t know his wife’s opinion yet.

-Q: How do you keep your husband from reading your e-mail? A: Rename the e-mail folder “Instruction Manuals.”

-A man is boasting to his buddies that he is taking his wife to Rome for their 40th wedding anniversary. 
"What will you do for your 50th?" one of them asks.
"I'll go and get her."

And finally. . .

-To keep your marriage brimming,
With love in the loving cup,
Whenever you're wrong admit it;
Whenever you're right shut up. - Ogden Nash.

So Happy Anniversary my friends. Perhaps you won’t pay any attention to the above, and probably shouldn’t except to laugh out loud. Laughter, I hear, helps a marriage.

But you’ve made it for 46 years without my help. Congratulations. Wishing you at least another 50, or so. And thank you for being my friends.

Monday, October 10, 2016

Tell Me This Won’t Happen to Us

 All my friends and I seem to be aging at about the same rate at about the same time.

And they share the same aging concerns as I do. . .Will this happen to me?!? Yes, we do worry about what age will do to us.

Witness the following, sent to me by a recently retired friend. He wrote:

“Tell me this won’t happen to us!”

An elderly Floridian called 911 on his cell phone to report that his car has been broken into. He is hysterical as he explains his situation to the dispatcher: 'They've stolen the stereo, the steering wheel, the brake pedal and even the accelerator!' he cried. The dispatcher said, 'Stay calm... An officer is on the way.' A few minutes later, the officer radios in 'Disregard.' He says. 'He got in the back seat by mistake.'

“Tell me this won’t happen to us!” my friend continued to worry.
Three sisters, ages 92, 94 and 96, live in a house together. One night the 96-year-old draws a bath. She puts her foot in and pauses. She yells to the other sisters, 'Was I getting in or out of the bath?' The 94-year-old yells back, 'I don't know. I'll come up and see.' She starts up the stairs and pauses. 'Was I going up the stairs or down?’ The 92-year-old is sitting at the kitchen table having tea listening to her sisters, she shakes her head and says, 'I sure hope I never get that forgetful, knock on wood...' She then yells, 'I'll come up and help both of you as soon as I see who's at the door.'

(Confession:  Yes I have wondered “What in the world am I doing?”)

“Tell me this won’t happen to us!” (Too late!)

Three retirees, each with a hearing loss, were playing golf one fine March day. One remarked to the other, 'Windy, isn't it?' 'No,' the second man replied, 'it's Thursday.' And the third man chimed in, 'So am I. Let's have a beer.'

(Have had to tell several friends they needed to get their hearing checked.  Couldn’t hear their answers though.)

“Tell me this won’t happen to us!”

Two elderly gentlemen had been friends for many decades. Over the years, they had shared all kinds of activities and adventures. Lately, their activities had been limited to meeting a few times a week to play cards.

One day, they were playing cards when one looked at the other and said, 'Now don't get mad at me. I know we've been friends for a long time, but I just can't think of your name! I've thought and thought, but I can't remember it. Please tell me what your name is.’

His friend stared at him for at least three minutes -- he just stared and stared at him. Finally he said, 'How soon do you need to know?'
(OOPS! Oh good grief! It is happening to us!)

“Tell me this won’t happen to us!”

As a senior citizen was driving down the freeway, his cell phone rang. Answering, he heard his wife's voice urgently warning him, 'Herman, I just heard on the news that there's a car going the wrong way on the interstate. Please be careful!' 'Heck,' said Herman, 'It's not just one car. It's hundreds of them!'

This will NOT happen. I signed a pact with adult children that I will not use cell phone while driving. That should save me.

Monday, October 3, 2016

Funny Filosopher’s Measurements Measure Up

One of my Funny Filosophers decided to measure things this week.

His report illustrates just how imaginative the English language is, or how frustrating if you are a non-English speaker.

Enjoy. . .

The Funny Filosopher’s Measurements:

1. Ratio of an igloo’s circumference to its diameter = Eskimo Pi

2. Two thousand pounds of Chinese soup = Won Ton

3. One millionth of a mouthwash = one microscope

4. Time between slipping on a peel and smacking the pavement = one bananosecond

5. The weight an evangelist carries with God = one billigram

6. The time it takes to sail 220 yards at one nautical mile per hour = knotfurlong

7. 365.25 days of drinking low-calorie beer = one lite year

8. 16.5 feet in The Twilight Zone = one Rod Serling

9. Half a large intestine = one semicolon

10. One million aches = one megahertz

11. One basic unit of laryngitis = one hoarsepower

12. The shortest distance between two jokes = one straight line

13. Two thousand mockingbirds = two kilomockingbirds

14. One kilogram of falling figs = one Fig Newton

15. One thousands ccs of wet socks = one literhosen

16. Sixteen nickels = one paradigms

17. One million-million microphones = one megaphone

18. One million bicycles = two megacycles

19. Ten cards = one decacards

20. One millionth of a fish = one microfiche

21. One trillion pins = one terrapin

22. Ten rations = one decoration

23. One hundred rations = one C-ration

24. 2.4 statute miles of intravenous surgical tubing at Yale University Hospital = one I.V. league.

And if that doesn’t leave you laughing, or at the least a little bit confused about our language, and math, nothing will. But then I was already confused about math.

Have a happy day!

Friday, September 23, 2016

The ‘Shotgun!’ Rules

I am an only child. Strangely, all my first cousins were also the one and only child of their parents.

I don’t know what was going on back then. Maybe it was something in the water. The result was neither I nor my cousins knew about “calling shotgun.”

So when my own three children (maybe the water improved) started “calling shotgun,” they had to explain the rules to me. Of course the rules change quite often, and even expand as the grandchildren begin showing up.

So for all future parents of multiples and grandparents, here are some of the official rules for “calling gunshot,” or, for those still not in the know, this determines who gets to sit in the front passenger seat.

The shotgunner must be in clear sight of the car, and shotgun can be called regardless of whether the driver is in sight of the car.

If you are the first to be picked up on a journey you are automatically given shotgun. You retain this position for the entire journey, unless you violate rules 10, 13, 18 or any other rules stipulating the loss of shotgun.

You cannot declare shotgun if someone has previously declared shotgun for that journey.

When simultaneous shotgun is called, there is then a foot race to the passenger side door from all the people who called.

Shotgun cannot be called while inside a building (unless you are in a multi-story or underground parking garage).

Shotgun cannot be called in advance, only while on the way to the car for the journey.

Once shotgun has been called the driver has the option of a reload. The driver yells “reload” and this means that all previous calls of shotgun are void and the first person to call shotgun again gets the seat. This is helpful if the driver really doesn’t like the person who first called shotgun. It is often used when there is a simultaneous call and the driver is unsure of the outcome. Note that a shotgun has only two barrels so a reload can only be called once.

If the regular driver of the vehicle is drunk or otherwise unable to perform their duties as driver, then he/she is automatically given shotgun.

Once the journey has begun, the driver is the controller of the musical entertainment. However if they feel the road requires their full attention, music duty is passed to the shotgunner. However putting on crap tunes or allowing for silence will result in demotion to the back seat.

Anyone calling shotgun must have his or her shoes on. This is to stop people running outside and calling shotgun, then having to go back inside to put their shoes on and slowing the journey. This is known as the Shoe Rule.

Shotgun overrules Dibs and other girly calls!

When travelling with a couple, one of the couple MUST shotgun the front. No one wants to chauffer two of their mates while they are in the back all over each other.

If someone has successfully called shotgun, they have the right to the front seat. They do not have the right to correct the driver on their navigation skills or driving ability. If the passenger does this, then they forfeit their position as shotgun holder.

If someone says, "what’s shotgun?" after it has been called then they have to walk.

If the shotgunner attempts to open the door just as the driver is unlocking it and jams the lock half open so that the driver needs to lock it and unlock it again, the shotgunner forfeits their position. This is known as shotgun suicide.

Automatic "couple's rights act 1997." This law states that, if the driver is the boyfriend/girlfriend of a passenger in the car, that passenger has the right to the seat of their choice.

If one of the potential occupants of the vehicle is dressed (convincingly) as a pirate then they are given automatic shotgun. In the event of more than one pirate being present, a sword fight shall determine the successful shotgunner. This is known as The Pirate Rule.

When riding in a two or three door car, it is the responsibility of the shotgunner to allow rear passengers in and out of the car, NOT THE DRIVERS regardless of weather conditions.

Obviously the previous rule on the subject didn’t clarify things completely with everyone coming up with a new rule that overrules shotgun. NOTHING overrules shotgun. Shotgun is final and cannot be overruled!

It is the shotgunner’s responsibility to be on the lookout for police and cameras. If the shotgunner doesn't spot a speed camera and this results in a speeding ticket it is immediately their fault and not the drivers.

Friday, September 16, 2016

The Football Funnies

We are nearly to fall and we’re already into football and I am happy. Yes, this grandma is a football fan, and most everyone knows that.

So one of my Fhunny Fhilosophers shared the following with me this week. I laughed. I hope you do too, and seriously consider the truth (Ha-ha-ha) in the following Football Fhunny Fhilosophies.

-“It is better to have died a small boy than to fumble the football.” John Heisman

-“I make my practices real hard because if a player is a quitter, I want him to quit in practice, not in a game.” Bear Bryant, Alabama

-“It isn’t necessary to see a good tackle, you can hear it!” Knute Rockne, Notre Dame

-“At Georgia Southern we don’t cheat. That costs money, and we don’t have any.” Erik Russell, Georgia Southern

-“The man who complains about the way the ball bounces is likely to be the one who dropped it.” Lou Holtz, Arkansas and Notre Dame

-“When you win, nothing hurts.” Joe Namath, Alabama 

-“A school without football is in danger of deteriorating into a medieval study hall.” Frank Leahy, Notre Dame

-“There’s nothing that cleanses your soul like getting the hell kicked out of you.” Woody Hayes, Ohio State

-“I don’t expect to win enough games to be put on NCAA probation. I just want to win enough to warrant an investigation.” Bob Devaney, Nebraska

-“In Alabama, an atheist is someone who doesn’t believe in Bear Bryant.” Wally Butts, Georgia

-I never graduated from Iowa. But I was only there for two terms—Truman’s and Eisenhower’s.” Alex Karras, Iowa

-“My advice to defensive players is to take the shortest route to the ball, and arrive in a bad humor.” Bowden Wyatt, Tennessee

-“I could have been a Rhodes Scholar except for my grades.” Duffy Daugherty, Michigan State

-“Always remember Goliath was a 40-point favorite over David.” Shug Jordan, Auburn

-“I asked Darrell Royal, the coach of the Texas Longhorns, why he didn’t recruit me. He said, ‘Well Walt, we took a look at you, and you weren’t any good.’” Walt Garrison, Oklahoma State

-“Son, you’ve got a good engine, but your hands aren’t on the steering wheel.” Bobby Bowden, Florida State

-“Football is NOT a contact sport. It is a collision sport. Dancing is a contact sport.” Duffy Daugherty, Michigan State

-After USC lost 51-0 to Notre Dame, the coach’s post-game message to his team was, “All those who need showers, take them.” John McKay, USC

-“If lessons are learned in defeat, our team is getting a great education.” Murray Warmath, Minnesota

-“The only qualifications for a lineman are to be big and dumb. To be a back, you only have to be dumb.” Knute Rockne, Notre Dame

-“We live one day at a time and scratch where it itches.” Darrell Royal, Texas

-“We didn’t tackle well today, but we made up for it by not blocking.” John McKay, USC

-“I’ve found that prayers work best when you have big players.” Knute Rockne, Notre Dame

-Ohio State’s Urban Meyer on one of his players: “He doesn’t know the meaning of the word fear. In fact, I just saw his grades and he doesn’t know the meaning of a lot of words.”

I LOVE football!

Friday, September 9, 2016

New Earthquake Detector in Place (on the Couch)

I know we’ve been here before, but if Oklahoma keeps shaking, I’m gonna’ keep complaining.

I had just sat down with my first cup of coffee for the day on Friday, and was making lots of plans for a weekend family party in my backyard. Ten people were expected, plus two toddlers, and I wanted to cookout. Extensive plans were needed.

Then my couch trembled. It was more like my derriere felt that first ripple.

“What?!?” I thought.

I checked on housedog Penny, who was lying next to me. Sometimes she gets an itch and scratches hard enough to shake the couch. Nope. Penny was sound asleep.

“That can’t possibly be an . . .” and before I could finish the thought the whole house trembled. It did more than tremble. It shook like a big dog that just climbing out of its bathwater. I sat there astounded while my house rumbled and things fell off shelves.

Yep. That can be an earthquake. In fact, that was an earthquake reminiscent of Alaska where I lived for three years and learned how to live with earthquakes. It was a good 5.8 shake.

But I can’t get used to earthquakes in Oklahoma. Along the Pacific Rim, yes, earthquakes are expected. But they are not, or were not, to be expected in the central United States.

Well they are now, say the experts, who blame our shakes on fracking and disposal well drilling. But no one is really sure. We are sure the following has occurred in Oklahoma:

    * 8 earthquakes today (as of noon Friday)

    * 69 earthquakes in the past 7 days

     *144 earthquakes in the past month

     *2,524 earthquakes in the past year

Only got one thing to say. If I wanted to live with earthquakes, I’d still be in Alaska! Now we live with the threat of tornadoes and earthquakes, and wouldn’t you know, the remnants of a hurricane are expected to arrive this weekend and douse us with rain.

All of nature’s calamities should not be expected in one place! Not fair!

I called my insurance agent.

“Do I have earthquake insurance?” I wanted to know.


“Well, I want some.”

“You really don’t need it.”

“Yes I do.”

So now I have earthquake insurance, although I gotta’ say, the deductible is kind’a high. I almost let my insurance agent talk me out of it, but, as of Friday morning, I’m glad I’ve got it.

That’s because my new earthquake detector detected another earthquake late Thursday. Yep. I got a derriere tremor. I confess, as an NFL fan, I was watching the Denver Broncos hang on to beat the Carolina Panthers, and that game would have made anyone’s derriere tremble. It was good, especially if, like me, you’re a Broncos fan.

But the NFL doesn’t usually jostle my derriere. My heart might pound, but derriere doesn’t.

So when derriere got the shake signal I immediately thought, ‘Oh no. Not again.’

Housedog was sound asleep again, as usual. Hum, was it another mouse? Those one or two of you that like to read these meanderings might remember my last report on strange derriere signals. A search of couch turned up a smashed mouse.

Well, this couch potato had not smashed another mouse. Derriere had detected a 3.8 earthquake to go along with Friday’s 5.8. I have a new weapon in earthquake detection – my rear end, or derriere. So rest assured readers, if my derriere trembles any more, I will immediately report it on Facebook.

Who needs a seismograph when I got a derriere?

Friday, August 26, 2016

It’s the Scatter that Matters

Country Philosopher sent me the following today. No comments needed. Just read.

I was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily apprising a basket of freshly picked green peas. 

I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes. Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller (the store owner) and the ragged boy next to me. 

‘Hello Barry, how are you today?’ 

‘H’lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus’ admirin’ them peas. They sure look good.’ 

‘They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?’ 

‘Fine. Gittin’ stronger alla’ time.’ 

‘Good. Anything I can help you with?’ 

‘No, Sir. Jus’ admirin’ them peas.’ 

‘Would you like to take some home?’ asked Mr. Miller. 

‘No, Sir. Got nuthin’ to pay for ‘em with.’

'Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?’

‘All I got’s my prize marble here.’ 

‘Is that right? Let me see it,’ said Miller. 

‘Here ‘tis. She’s a dandy.’ 

‘I can see that. Hmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?’ the store owner asked. 

‘Not zackley but almost.’

‘Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble,’ Mr. Miller told the boy.

‘Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller.’

Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me. With a smile she said, ‘There are two other boys like him in our community, all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever. When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn’t like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, when they come on their next trip to the store.’

I left the store smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A short time later I moved to Colorado, but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering for marbles. 

Several years went by, each more rapid than the previous one. Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and while I was there learned that Mr. Miller had died. They were having his visitation that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them. Upon arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could.

Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts. . .all very professional looking. They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and smiling by her husband's casket. 

Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket. Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one, each young man stopped briefly and laced his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary awkwardly, wiping his eyes.

Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and reminded her of the story from those many years ago and what she had told me about her husband’s bartering for marbles. With her eyes glistening, she took my hand and led me to the casket.

‘Those three young men who just left were the boys I told you about. They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim ‘traded’ them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size, they came to pay their debt. 

‘We’ve never had a great deal of the wealth of this world,’ she confided, ‘but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho.’

With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three exquisitely shined red marbles.

The Moral: 
We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind deeds. Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath.

Today I wish you a day of ordinary miracles - A fresh pot of coffee you didn't make yourself; An unexpected phone call from an old friend; Green stop lights on your way to work; The fastest line at the grocery store; A good sing-along song on the radio; and Your keys found right where you left them.

It’s not what you gather, but what you scatter that tells what kind of life you have lived!