St. Peter said, ‘I don’t know. This is the first time anyone has asked. Let me go find out and he left.”

The couple sat and waited for an answer… for a couple of months.

While they waited, they discussed the pros and cons. If they were allowed to get married in Heaven, should they get married, what with the eternal aspect of it all? ‘What if it doesn’t work? Are we stuck in Heaven together forever?’ Another month passed.

St. Peter finally returned looking somewhat bedraggled. ‘Yes,’ he informed the couple, ‘you can get married in Heaven.’

‘Great!’ said the couple. ‘But we were just wondering; what if things don’t work out? Could we also get a divorce in Heaven?’

St. Peter red-faced with anger, slammed his clipboard on the ground.

‘What’s wrong?’ asked the frightened couple.

‘OH, COME ON!!!’ St. Peter shouted. ‘It took me 3 months to find a priest up here! Do you have ANY idea how long it’ll take to find a lawyer!

****************

Forwarded from the internet

And, let me know what you think of homeschooling.  Good?  Bad? ‘Orrible?  I’d be interested to know how many of you were home-schooled.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Originally filed as “Proof women are born this way”

From about 3 – 7 minutes on it gets pretty funny!

(And this is by no means an approval of the Comedy Barn, etc.)

Click here to view the embedded video.

Stuff I’m Planning to Do to My Sons Car-Now that He Has One!

Well, I’m officially old! My seventeen-year-old son now has a car and this post is strictly for your comic relief! Lance worked hard and saved, and it was a joy to help get a car for him as a graduation gift. It’s a nice, 2003 yellow mustang with about 70,000 miles, but in great shape. It runs well and we’ve had fun teaching him how to drive a stick-shift.

This evening, I sat in the passenger’s seat as he drove us to church and a funny thought hit me! I should pay him back for all the crazy things he’s done to my vehicles since the day he was born! This is my chance! And so… here’s my detailed list of things to do to his car in the coming months:

1. I’m going to find a baby and let it spit up all over his back seat, front seat, and on him. (Among other things that I cannot mention)

2. I’m going to spill four baby-bottles of warm formula on the carpet and leave it there to curdle.

3. I’m going to get an entire box of saltine crackers and grind them into little crumbles into his seats and floors. I will repeat this within one hour of every time he vacuums his car.

4. I’m going to dump two full boxes of McDonald’s french fries between the cracks in every part of the car-where they are still visible, but impossible to reach with any man-made device.

5. I’m going to get three half peeled bananas and cram them into spaces between the upholstery-preferably where the mush will get on his hand when he buckles his seat-belt.

6. I’m going to get two trash bags full of gum wrappers, sticky pieces of candy, half-eaten laffy-taffy, popsicle sticks, and straw papers and cram them deeply into the pockets on back of the front seats. I will repeat this frequently as well.

7. I’m going to leave a sealed can of soda long enough for it to explode all over the dashboard in warm weather.

8. I’m going to leave a large McDonalds cup half full of coke in the cup-holder until the bottom of the cup falls out leaving sticky coke residue so thick that a blow torch is required to remove it.

9. I’m going to wait until his windows are steamy, icey, or dirty and write “Cary was here” and “wash me” all over them.

10. I’m going to buy 100 McDonalds happy meal toys and leave them spontaneously in every nook and cranny for him to find over the next 100 weeks.

11. I’m going to stick chewed gum to the cup holders and CD player. At the same time I will remove all CD’s and replace them with Patch the Pirate.

12. I’m going to take my shoes to a very dirty place, grind them for two hours in dirt and mud, and then rub them on the floors, the sides of the doors, and the backs of the seats-making sure the leave clearly visible shoe imprints all over clean trim and upholstery.

13. I’m going to get two half-eaten cheeseburgers and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich-remove the burgers from the buns take the sandwhich apart, and place them strategically out of site in the various storage compartments of the car to be found several months later.

14. I’m going bring coloring books and crayons-drop the crayons in fragments wherever they might fall, and then tear pages out of the book and cram them up under the seats.

15. I’m going to melt chocolate and drip it right where he sits in the driver’s seat.

16. I’m going to take four random objects from my room or office and leave them in his car every time I ride in it.

17. I’m going to find a nice black ball-point pen and draw pictures on the ceiling fabric above the passenger seat.

18. I’m going to get a large car seat, sit in it, and scream for three hours when he’s driving somewhere.

19. I’m going to sit behind him and kick the back of his seat while he’s driving.

20. I’m going to spontaneously take whatever I’m holding at the moment and throw it at his head while he’s driving-just because I feel like it.

And for my grand finale- I’m going to find a large paper clip, and just for fun, jam it into the ignition, pretending it’s a key. When it gets stuck, I’m going to twist and turn it until it breaks and stays there. Then I’m going to watch while he waits for the tow-truck driver to take him to the dealership to remove the paperclip remnant and return the car to functionality.

At this point in time, I will feel satisfied with sweet revenge and we can call it even.

But at the same time, I will be very sad that he is now driving himself to school. I will fight back the tears that he is grown and all of these things are just funny, distant memories! We sure have had a great time watching him grow up-though our vehicles have paid a dear price!

We love you Lance!

(Reposted from Encouraging Words: Used by permission)

Click here to view the embedded video.

It is important for men to remember that as women grow older it becomes harder for them to maintain the same quality of housekeeping they did when they were younger. When men notice this, they should try not to yell. Let me relate how I handle the situation.

When I sold the ranch and took an early retirement a year ago, it became necessary for Lorraine to get a full-time job both for extra income and for Health Insurance Benefits that we need. She was fortunate to land a job with First Nations at Island Lake.

It was shortly after she started working at this job that I noticed that she was beginning to show her age. I usually get home from drinking coffee or curling about the same time she gets home from work. Although she knows how hungry I am, she almost always says that she has to rest for half an hour or so before she starts supper. I try not to yell at her when this happens. Instead, I tell her to take her time. I understand that she is not as young as she used to be. I just tell her to wake me when she finally does get supper on the table.

She used to wash and dry the dishes as soon as we finished eating. It is now not unusual for them to sit on the table for several hours after supper. I do what I can by reminding her several times each evening that they aren’t cleaning themselves. I know she appreciates this, as it does seem to help her get them done before she goes to bed.

Our washer and dryer are in the basement. When she was younger, Lorraine used to be able to go up and down the stairs all day and not get tired. Now that she is older she seems to get tired so much more quickly. Sometimes she says she just can’t make another trip down those steps. I don’t make a big issue of this. As long as she finishes up the laundry the next evening I am willing to overlook it.

Not only that, but unless I need something ironed to wear to the Monday Victims Service meeting or to Wednesday’s or Saturday’s coffee shop or to Tuesday’s or Thursday’s curling or something like that, I will 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 or dusting. Also, if I have had a really good day fishing, this allows her to gut and scale the fish at a more leisurely pace.

Lorraine is starting to complain a little occasionally. Not often mind you, but just enough for me to notice. For example, she will say that it is difficult for her to find time to pay the monthly bills during her lunch hour. In spite of her complaining, I continue to try to 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 any, if you know what I mean.

When doing simple jobs she seems to think she needs more rest periods than she used to have to take. A couple of weeks ago she said she had to take a break when she was only half finished mowing the yard.

I overlook comments like these because I realize it’s just age talking. In fact, I try to not embarrass her when she needs these little extra rest breaks. I tell her to fix herself a nice, big, cold glass of freshly squeezed lemonade and just sit for a while. I tell her that as long as she is making one for herself, she may as well make one for me and take her break by the hammock so she can talk with me until I fall asleep.

I could go on and on, but I think you know where I’m coming from.

I know that I probably look like a saint in the way I support Lorraine on a daily basis. I’m not saying that the ability to show this much consideration is easy. Many men will find it difficult. Some will find it impossible. No one knows better than I do how frustrating women can become as they get older. My purpose in writing this is simply to suggest that you make the effort. I realize that achieving the exemplary level of showing consideration I have attained is out of reach for the average man. However guys, even if you just yell at your wife a little less often because of this article, I consider that writing it was worthwhile.

Jim Torgersen - 1996