A Meadow Lark Sang.

Post 575 ~ ~ Wednesday, 18th February, 2009.

Hello Everyone ~~ I hope all is well in your part of the world. The fire situation has settled
down al lot. There are still a few fires burning in inaccessible areas, like forests, but no towns threatened at the moment. Unfortunately, a vlounteer fire fighter who came from Canberra was killed when a big tree fell on him, so that has been sad for the firies. There was a huge fire in Canberra about 4 or 5 years ago and we sent Victorians to help, so he wanted to repay us. So sad for his wife and 3 kids. That brings the death toll to 201, and they don't expect that to rise much higher. Thank God for that.

I posted my last post about 10.30pm, and John rang at 11pm to say he was home, so that is always a relief. He came for his dogs the next day and was very tired.
Yesterday was my shopping day and I made the mistake of doing heaps of cooking in the
afternoon and was washing dishes at all hours of the night. SO I have decided not to cook after shopping any more as I was really beat and could hardly walk. I am OK today.

My story tonight is called "A Meadow Lark Sang." Author Unknown. I hope you enjoy it.

The child whispered, "God, speak to me." And a meadow lark sang. The child did not hear.

So the child yelled, "God, speak to me." And the thunder rolled across the sky. But the child did not listen.

The child looked around and said, "God, let me see you." and a star shone brightly, but the child did not notice.

And the child shouted, "God, show me a miracle. And a life was born but the child did not know.

So the child cried out in despair, "Touch me God, and let me know you are here."
Whereupon God reached down and touched the child.

But the child brushed the butterfly away and walked away unknowingly.
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First joke came from my dear friend Linda May. Thank you my friend.

OVER --SENSITIVE WIVES.
Please be advised that as your wives age, it is harder for them to maintain the same quality of house-keeping as when they were younger.

When you notice this, try not to yell at them. Some are oversensitive and there is nothing worse than an oversensitive woman.

My name is Dave. Let me relate how I handled the situation with my wife, Martha. When I was laid off from my consulting job and took early retirement in April, it became necessary for Martha to get a full time job, both for extra income and for the health benefits we needed.

Shortly after she started working, I noticed she was beginning to show her age. I usually got home from the golf course about the same time she gets home from work, and although she knows how hungry I am, she rests for an hour or so before she starts dinner. I don't yell at her. Instead I tell her to take her time and just wake me when she
gets dinner on the table. I generally have lunch in the Men's Grill at the club, so eating out is not reasonable. I'm ready for some home-cooked grub when I hit that door.

She used to do the dishes as soon as we finished eating. But now, it's not unusual for them to sit on the table for several hours after dinner. I do what I can by diplomatically
reminding her several times each evening that they won't clean themselves. I know she appreciates this, as it does seem to motivate her to get them done before she goes to bed. I really think my old business as a consultant helps a lot. Telling people what they ought to do is one of my strong points.
(note from Merle - - I think he is living dangerously.)

Also now that she has gotten older, she does seem to get tired much more quickly. Our washer and dryer are in the basement, and sometimes she says she just can't make another trip down those steps. I don't make a big issue of this, just as long as she finishes up the laundry the next evening. I'm willing to overlook her shortcomings in this area. Unless I need something ironed to wear to the Monday lodge meeting, or to the Wednesday and Saturday poker club, or to Tuesday's and Thursday's bowling. I'll tell her to wait until the next evening to do the ironing.

This gives her a little more time to do some of those odds and ends like shampooing the dog, vacuuming and dusting. If I had a really bad day on the course and it was wet and muddy and my clubs are a mess, I let her clean them, you know, getting the grit off the
grips and a little light Brillo on the club faces. Since my golf bag is heavy, I lift it out of the trunk for her.

Women are delicate, have weak wrists and can't lift heavy stuff as good as men. But I had
to tell her that I don't like to be wakened during my after-golf nap, so rather than bother me, she can put them back in the trunk when she's finished. Another symptom of aging is
complaining I think. For example, she will say that it is difficult for her to find time to pay the monthly bills during her lunch hour.
But boys, we take 'em for better or worse, so I just smile and offer encouragement. I tell her to stretch it out over two or even three days. That way she won't have to rush so much. I also remind her that missing lunch completely now and then wouldn't hurt her anyway (if you know what I mean.) I like to think that tact is one of my strong points.

When doing simple jobs, she seems to think she needs more rest periods. She had to take a break when she was only half finished mowing the yard. I try not to make a scene. I'm a fair man. I tell her to fix herself a nice, big, cold glass if fresh squeezed lemonade and just sit for a while, And as long as she is making one for herself, she may as well make one for me too, then take her break by my hammock. That way we can talk until I fall asleep. I know I probably look like a saint in the way I support Martha, but I'm not saying that showing this much consideration is easy.

Many men will find it difficult, some will find it impossible. Nobody knows better than I do, how frustrating women get as they get older. However, guys, if you just use a little more tact and less criticism of your aging wife because of this letter, I will consider it was well worthwhile. After all, we are put on this earth to help each other. Regards, Dave.

EDITOR'S NOTE
Dave died suddenly Thursday, May 19th. He was found with a Calloway extra long 50 inch Big Bertha Golf Driver rammed up his rectum with only 2 inches of grip showing. His wife Martha was arrested, but after the jury read this letter, they accepted her defense that he accidently sat on it. She was released from custody on Friday.
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Have to find some short jokes after that.
These were sent By my dear friend, Pauline, Jeanette's sister.

One year, a husband decided to buy his mother-in-law a cemetary plot as a Christmas gift.
The next year he didn't buy her a gift. When she asked him why, he replied, "Well you still haven't used the gift I bought you last year."
And that is when the fight started . . . . .

My wife walked into the den and asked "What's on the TV? I replied, "Dust."
And that's how the fight started . . . .

A woman is standing nude , looking in the bedroom mirror. She is not happy with what she sees and says to her husband, "I feel horrible, I look old, fat and ugly. I really need you to pay me a compliment." The husband replies, "Your eyesight's damn near perfect."
And that's when the fight started . . . .

My wife was hinting about what she wanted for our upcoming anniversary. She said, " I want something shiny that goes from 0 to 200 in about 3 seconds." I bought her a scale.
And that's when the fight started. . . .

I asked my wife, "Where do you want to go for our anniversary?" It warmed my heart to see her face melt in sweet appreciation. "Somewhere I haven't been in a long time,she said. So I suggested, "How about the kitchen?"
And that's when the fight started . . . .

My wife and I are watching "Who wants to be a Millionaire" while we were in bed. I turned to her and said, "Do you want to have sex?" "No." she answered. I then said, "Is that your final answer?" She didn't even look at me this time, simply saying, "Yes."
So I saidm "Then I'd like to phone a friend."
And then that's when the fight started . . . .

I tried to talk my wife into buying a case of Miller Light for $14.95. Instead she bought a jar of cold cream for $7.95. I told her the beer would make her look better at night than the cold cream.
And that's when the fight started . . . .

I took my wife to a restaurant. The waiter for some reason, took my order first.
"I'll have the strip steak, medium rare, please."
He asked, "Aren't you worried about the mad cow?"
"Nah, she can order for herself."
And that's when the fight started. . . .
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A woman was standing in before the bedroom mirror, admiring herself in her new outfit before going out. She posed this way and that, befroe her husband who looked on with disinterest, then remarked : "Your butt is size of a three burner barbacue."

Later that evening tucked up and cosy in bed, he leant over and tapped her on the shoulder, and said, "How about it?" She replied, "No thanks, it's not worth lighting up the whole barbecue for half a sausage."
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What do you call an intelligent, goodlooking, sensitive man?
A rumour.
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A few quotes sent by my good friend Nancy. Thank you very much dear Nancy.

The best mirror is an old friend. ~ ~ George Herbert.

You can always tell a real friend: When you've made a fool of yourself, he doesn't feel you've done a permanent job. ~ ~ Laurence J. Peter.

A true frien is someone who thinks that you are a good egg even though he knows you are slightly cracked. ~ ~ Bernard Meltzer.

Well, time to say Goodnight for now if I am to get to bed by midnight. I hope your week is going well and life is good. My love and best wishes to you all. Cheers, Merle.

Post 575 ~ ~ Wednesday, 18th February, 2009.
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