Frustration

Joyce: How do I share this video?

Bob: Is there a "share" button somewhere?

Joyce: Yes.

Bob: Try clicking on it.

Joyce: It doesn't do anything. ... Oh wait, there's a dropdown thingy.

Bob: So choose "Facebook".

Joyce: No, I think I'll post it on Twitter. ... Darn, now it gave me a blank screen that says it can't connect to the server.

Bob: Try clicking on the "refresh" button.

Joyce: That's what I've been trying to tell you: Microsoft upgraded me to version nine without asking and there's no "refresh" button on the new version of Explorer.

Bob: What's that button next to the red "X"?

Joyce: That's just the circle-arrow thingy.

Bob: Oh, well then, I guess I can't help you.

It's in the Bible

At Bible class tonight we were reading from Second Samuel chapter three. The pastor paused for a moment at the end of verse fourteen: "And David sent messengers to Ishbosheth Saul's son, saying, 'Deliver [me] my wife Michal, which I espoused to me for an hundred foreskins...'"

Inga, a kindly 90-year-old widow, interrupted to ask a nagging question: "How long is a hundred foreskins?"

Seeing that Inga had mistakenly assumed that a foreskin was some ancient measure of time (like a fortnight or something), I jumped in to set her straight: "About five feet."

What I Learned from a Four-Year-Old

Today our granddaughter sang us a song:
The E-I-E-I-O ---
Yes, that's the book for me.
I stand alone on the Word of God,
The E-I-E-I-O.

And then she had this conversation with her mom:

Mommy: So Abby, what have you written here?

Abby: That's Rapunzel.

Mommy: So B-F-O-A-B-Y-R-S-G-I-D-A spells Rapunzel?

Abby: It's in Spanish.

Wifely Jealousy

Bob: Good dog, Tifa!

Joyce: Are you hugging Andy's dog?

Bob: She's leaning on me and I'm petting her.

Joyce: I saw you; you were hugging the dog! I am so jealous!

Bob: There's no need to be jealous, dear. C'mon -- group hug!

The Baby Awakes...

This has been a very mild winter -- so mild that the leaves were late in falling and the grass is still growing. So I've found it necessary to keep mowing right up to the week before Christmas, but (since the mower does a really good job of picking up and bagging those last stragglers among our fallen leaves) I've also found it convenient.

And coincidentally, our youngest son is presently home from college on Christmas break. He had minor surgery a week ago, but he's bounced back very nicely. So nicely, in fact, that he's even taken to staying out 'til 3:00 AM. So ... about 10:30 this morning Joyce and I had the following conversation.

Bob: We had heavy dew last night, but I think the grass is dry enough now -- I'm gonna mow.

Joyce: But why?

Bob: Because I don't have a leaf blower.

Joyce: But you'll wake the baby.

Bob: Exactly! The mower's probably more muffled than a leaf blower would be, but it'll do the job.

Off to See the Whizzer

Joyce: That's ridiculous!

Bob: What?

Joyce: This new Sega game has players competing at urination.



Bob: You're right. It's absolutely ridiculous that Sega beat Nintendo to market. How is it possible that the first game system with a pisser app is not the Wii?

Not a Chinese Fire Drill

James's unit is now approaching the midpoint of its deployment to Afghanistan. And luckily, he's situated where he has pretty good internet connection, so he gets to visit with his bride Amber most days.

Unfortunately, James's sweetheart apparently had a tough time getting to sleep last night, but fortunately (because James wanted to let her sleep in), that means we were blessed with a chance to skype with him.

At one point Joyce noticed that James had something taped to the door of his room, so she asked:

Joyce: What's that taped to your door?

James: What? (Looking behind him.) Oh that. That's just the evacuation plan for the building. If we didn't have that sheet of paper on the inside of every room, we'd never figure out how to walk down the shotgun hall to the closest outside door.

Joyce: So you have fire drills?

James: In a sense.

Joyce: How's that?

James: They're more like "indirect fire" drills.

We laughed, but I thought to myself: Good thing Amber didn't hear that."

(Don't worry, James. It'll just be our little secret.)

Tracking Underwear

Joyce: Bobby, have you been changing your underwear everyday?

Bob: As far as I know, I haven't been changing anyone else's.

Joyce: I just did a load of laundry that had four pairs of my underwear and one of yours.

Bob: Was it a white load?

Joyce: Yeah ...

Bob: So maybe I've been wearing the colored underwear you bought me?

Joyce: Oh, right. Never mind.

Riddle This

Our son Andy and his charming wife are expecting their second child any day now (a boy), but Andy is being a bit cagey about the name they've selected. He's given a few clues:

A Riddle:
We played a game one night that included your future grandson's full name. All I will share is the final score of the game: 164. If you figure it out, please let others have a try until the birth.

Figuring 164 would be pretty good bowling score, I guessed the the baby's name must be Brunswick.

Joyce emailed Andy these guesses:
Eric
Fredrick Charles
Settler
Catan

But all those guesses were wrong, so Andy gave us another clue:
Your proper name rule assumption is keeping you from using the right game.

So we figure the game must be Scrabble.


Based on that assumption, we've come up with this list of names that are legitimate Scrabble words. (Please feel free to offer other suggestions as comments.)

Al        an East Indian tree
Alan      a large hunting dog
Alec      a herring
Argus     an East Indian pheasant
Art       an aesthetically pleasing arrangement
Ash       to convert into ash
Baker     one that bakes
Basil     an aromatic herb
Ben       an inner room
Benjamin  benzoine
Benny     an amphetamine tablet
Biff      to hit
Bill      to present a statement of costs to
Billy     a short club
Birch     to whip
Bob       to move up and down
Bobby     a policeman
Bolivar   a monetary unit of Venezuela
Booker    one that books
Boxer     one that packs boxes
Brad      a thin nail
Bud       a undeveloped plant part
Burton    a hoisting block
Buster    one that breaks up something
Carl      a peasant
Carter    one that carts
Carver    one that carves
Chad      a scrap of paper
Charley   a fool
Charlie   a fool
Chase     to pursue
Chevy     to chase about
Chico     a prickly shrub
Chuck     to throw
Cisco     a freshwater fish
Clarence  a closed carriage
Clay      to treat with clay
Clement   merciful
Cliff     a high steep face of rock
Cooper    to make or mend barrels
Dagwood   a large sandwich
Dale      a valley
Dalton    a unit of atomic mass
Davy      a safety lamp
Dean      a head of faculty
Dexter    situated on the right
Dick      to copulate with
Dickens   a devil
Dirk      a small knife
Don       to put on
Duke      a high ranking nobleman
Dusty     full of dust
Earl      a British nobleman
Ed        education
Eddy      to move against the main current
Ford      to cross by wading
Frank     honest and unreserved in speech
Franklin  a medeival English landowner
Fritz     a non-functioning state
Garvey    a small scow
Gene      a hereditary unit
Gilbert   a unit of magnetomotive force
Glen      a small valley
Graham    whole wheat flour
Grant     to bestow upon
Guy       to ridicule
Hale      healthy
Hank      to fasten a sail
Hansel    to give a gift to
Harper    a harpist
Harry     to pillage
Hector    to bully
Henry     a unit of inductance
Herb      a flowering plant with a non-woody stem
Herby     abounding in herbs
Homer     to hit a home run
Jack      to raise with a type of lever
Jacky     a sailor
Jake      all right, fine
Jay       a corvine bird
Jean      a durable cotton fabric
Jeroboam  a wine bottle
Jerry     a German soldier
Jesse     to fasten straps around the legs of
Jimmy     to pry open with a crowbar
Jocko     a monkey
Joe       a fellow
Joey      a young kangaroo
John      a toilet
Johnny    a sleeveless hospital gown
Jordan    a type of container
Joseph    a woman's long cloak
Josh      to tease
Kelly     a bright green color
Kelvin    a unit of temperature
Ken       to know
Kent      knew
King      to reign as king (a male monarch)
Kip       to sleep
Kit       to equip
Kitty     a kitten or cat
Kris      a short sword
Lance     to pierce with a lance
Lars      Roman gods
Lee       to shelter from the wind
Leno      a style of weaving
Levy      to impose or collect, as tax
Louie     a lieutenant
Louis     a former gold coin of France
Mac       a raincoat
Manly     like a man
Marc      the residue after a fruit has been pressed
Marcel    to make a deep soft wave in the hair
Mark      to make a visible impression on
Marshall  to put in proper order
Martin    a small bird
Marvy     marvelous
Mason     to build with stone or brick
Matt      to produce a dull finish on
Maxwell   a unit of magnetic flux
Mel       honey
Merle     a blackbird
Merlin    a European falcon
Mick      an Irishman
Mickey    a drugged drink
Mike      a microphone
Miller    one that mills
Milt      to impgregnate with milt (fish sperm)
Milty     full of milt (fish sperm)
Mo        a moment
Molly     a tropical fish
Morgan    a unit of distance between genes
Morris    an English folk dance
Morse     designating a code used in telegraphy
Mort      a note sounded on a hunting horn
Nelson    a wrestling hold
Nestor    a wise old man
Newt      a small salamander
Newton    a unit of force
Nick      to make a shallow cut in
Norm      a standard
Otto      fragrant oil
Palmer    a religious pilgrim
Parr      a young salmon
Pat       to touch lightly
Peter     to diminish gradually
Pierce    to cut or pass into or through
Ralph     to vomit
Randy     lustful
Reed      to fasten with reeds (the stalks of tall grasses)
Reg       a regulation
Rex       a king
Rich      having wealth
Rick      to pile hay in stacks
Rob       to take property from illegally
Robin     a songbird
Rock      stone
Rocky     stony
Rod       to provide with a rod
Roger     a pirate flag
Rusty     covered with rust
Sanders   one that sands
Shaw      to show
Shawn     an early woodwind instrument
Shea      an African tree
Smith     a worker in metals
Sol       the fifth note of diatonic scale
Sonny     a small boy
Spencer   a trysail
Stew      to cook by boiling slowly
Sue       to file suit or a boy named...
Tab       to name or designate
Tad       a small boy
Ted       to spread for drying
Teddy     a woman's undergarment
Terry     an abosrbent fabric
Texas     the uppermost structure on a steamboat
Thatcher  one that thatches
Timothy   a European grass
Toby      a type of drinking mug
Tod       a British unit of weight
Tom       to behave like an Uncle Tom
Tommy     a loaf of bread
Tony      stylish
Troy      a system of weights
Turner    one that turns
Van       a type of motor vehicle
Victor    one who defeats the enemy
Wally     something visually pleasing
Ward      to turn aside
Warren    a place where rabbits live
Watt      a unit of power
Webster   a weaver
Will      to decide upon
Willy     to willow
Wilt      to become limp
Woody     resembling wood

We Went Out for Breakfast

This morning Joyce and I dropped off one of the cars for a lube & oil change, then headed to breakfast. On our way to Cracker Barrel Joyce shared that she was looking forward to a quiet visit over breakfast. Now, those of you who've been to a "Cracker Barrel Restaurant & Country Store" (and who are therefore familiar with the acoustics of its dining rooms) are probably already sensing a conflict between Joyce's hankering for a Cracker Barrel breakfast and her hopes for a quiet visit.

We found the parking lot brimming with cars and the rocker-lined porch filled with walker-pushing patrons all conga-ing toward the front door. We joined the Xavier-Cugat-led procession and snaked our way past the front doors and through the racks of Halloween decorations which the wooden floor has so recently sprouted. Amid Maple Nut Goodies, Neccos and other vintage treats that festoon the hostess's station, the staff informed us there'd be a ten-minute wait. No problem -- we made a sharp 135-degree right turn toward the restroom alcove and thence perused our way to the far corner where one finds all the grandchild-worth garb.

No sooner had we noted that the stock of "bee" raiment (T-shirts embossed with imperatives like: "Bee Sweet", "Bee Good", etc.) was dwindling, than the god-in-the-rafters beckoned us return to the hostess station. So we again navigated that fifty-foot-long maze of festive ceramics, '60s-TV videos and near-stationary senior citizens -- but this time we managed it in a record two minutes. The hostess seated us next to the window in the far corner of the middle dining room, right behind the massive guy who very effectively blocked our view of the fireplace.

After a respectable period, the waitress (a cheerful Latina) came over and asked (over the din of forty simultaneous conversations): "Are joo reddy to orther?"

We were indeed. Joyce asked for the two-pecan-pancake deal and I ordered the "meat and eggs". But our prompt replies only extended the interrogation: "So wha woo joo lie to dreen?"

Joyce asked for water, but I (being the venturesome sort) requested milk, which of course prompted her to inquire: "Two person a hoe?"

I, of course, answered, "Hunh?"

So our kindly waitress (showing amazing patience with this deaf old man) leaned closer and repeated a little louder and slower: "Two-perSEN oh HOE?"

"Oh sorry. Whole milk, please."

"One carto oh two?"

"Are they half-pint cartons?"

"Jess."

"Two then.

"So how joo lie jur ecks kook?"

"Scrambled hard."

"Wi toes? ... or grizs?"

"With toast please."

"Bayco or sossaz?"

"Bacon!"

The longsuffering lady left, but soon returned with the correct order. I left her a nice tip.

After we'd left the restaurant (driving back to pick up the other car at the shop), Joyce and I laughed about how much more interesting what we hear is ... now that we can no longer hear.

I commented: "Well, at least we weren't the only elderly diners. The median age in there had to be over sixty. And did you notice, it was either groups of women or couples? There were lots of chatty women and not very many men. The ratio had to be three-to-one."

And naturally Joyce answered, "Who's Horatio?"

Quiet Afternoon

Joyce has her earphones on, so she can hear the radio without interrupting my preparation of tomorrow's Sunday school lesson. (I think she's listening to a Christian radio station.)

She snorted a little laugh, so I just had to ask:

Bob: What's so funny?

Joyce: There'll be all colors in heaven, but no one will be blue.

Bob: Yeah, somehow I always knew those Smurfs were gonna burn in hell.

(But Joyce didn't laugh. Maybe, with her earphones stuck in her ears and all, she just didn't hear me. Or ... then again ... maybe she did.)

I Ran Into Lin

Yesterday the TRE arrived at Victory Station just in time to make the connection with the light rail. I walked briskly to the beckoning Green Line and took my place opposite the open doors. As I turned around to face the passengers still entering the west-facing doors Lin walked in. I spoke first, "Morning Lin!"

Lin (tapping his cane against the pole that ran ceiling to floor, then stepping in next to me) replied, "Who's that?"

I answered, "It's Bob."

"Oh, hi Bob. So you usually take the early train?"

"Yeah ... then I guess that means you usually catch a later train?"

"Uh huh, but that's because I'm always on the morning conference call to get the report what IT systems have quit working during the night."

"So you missed the IT meeting this morning?"

"No, not very much. Whatever disasters have occurred will still be there when I get to work."

"Yeah, trouble does have a way of being there whenever you feel up to it."

Lin lamented, "... and especially when you don't."

I ruminated, "Life was so much simpler way back when. I remember back when I joined IT -- you and William shared a cube. Back then James was showing me the ropes, so I tended to tag along with him a lot. I'd observed that you and William seemed attached at the hip. One day I saw William without you, so I (being the smart ass I am) asked, 'Where's Tweedle-dee?' William didn't even hesitate. He fired back, 'Where's Beevis?'"

"No Bob, I don't think I've ever heard that story. But it sounds just like William."

The train pulled up to the Akard Street Station and we stepped off. Lin successfully negotiated his way between a tree and a bench to get to the main sidewalk. I stayed at his right side and informed him, "It looks like we'll be crossing Akard street first."

When we got to the corner Lin passed to the left of the large concrete pillar ... barely, so I had to stop and step behind him. As Lin stepped into the street he spoke to the empty space on his right, "So Bob, {something inaudible}."

I quickened my step, resumed my spot on Lin's right and said, "Sorry Lin, you'll have to repeat that. You know, we make quite a team ... a blind guy trying to carry on a conversation with a deaf guy."

Lin smiled and repeated his query, "So what keeps you busy these days?"

I gave him a brief rundown of what I've been working on recently, all the while marveling how gracefully Lin navigated the crosswalk, the curb and various obstacles along the sidewalk. Finally (just as we arrived at the front door of the building) I just had to comment, "That's amazing how skillfully you sidestep all those dog turds."

Lin laughed, "Hand of God!"

Proverb Thirty Two

The sermon today was a continuation in our study of the Book of Acts: chapter 27 -- the first part of the Apostle Paul's trip from Jerusalem as a prisoner of Rome, ending with their shipwreck on the Island of Malta. The pastor pointed out that Paul at the beginning of the chapter had no credibility with the centurion who was charged with delivering him to Rome, but by the end (as Paul's prediction of disaster came true) the crew was following Paul's instructions. The reason for their change of attitude toward Paul can be found in verse 25: "Therefore, keep up your courage, men, for I believe God that it will turn out exactly as I have been told."

Paul's faith in the One who has proven Himself faithful ultimately gives Paul credibility. Our challenge is to be people of faith -- and in the end God will give us whatever credibility we need to accomplish what he's called us to do.

The pastor then took the contrary position: "Of course, you're probably saying to yourself: 'I'm no Paul. I don't have the Paul's faith or gifts.' I mean, don't you ladies find the Proverb 31 woman a bit intimidating. And if there's a Proverb 31 woman, why isn't there a Proverb 32 man? It just doesn't seem fair that women are supposed to live up to the lofty example of womanly perfection in Proverb 31, but there's no Proverb 32."

At this point, my pretty bride leaned toward me and whispered: "He's wrong -- there is a Proverb-thirty-two man."

I whispered back, "There isn't even a Proverb 32; how can there be a Proverb 32 man?"

So Joyce immediately turned the pages of her Bible to prove me wrong. And sure enough, she was right and, yes, ... I was wrong.

Proverb 30:2 "Surely I am more stupid than any man, and I do not have the understanding of a man."

Frankly Speaking

I've told you about Frank before, a man of incredible wit. Twenty years later, Frank and I again find ourselves working in the same department. But sadly things are a bit different now. Just three months ago Frank buried his beautiful, charming wife. Her beaming face still graces the picture frames in Frank's office. So it was that, early this morning (as I was headed to the printer) I met Frank in the hallway. And as we met, I (mindful of Frank's terrible loss) found myself at a loss for words. The only sound I managed was...

Bob: {sigh}

Frank: Bob, there's no sighing allowed this early in the morning. Heavy breathing is way too strenuous first thing in the day.

Bob: But what if you do something particularly brilliant? Can I gasp in amazement?

Frank: Oh sure! It's not like that Bill Clinton thing --- inhaling is always permitted.

I laughed, grabbed my print-out, turned and walked back to my office. {sigh}

Airport Chit-Chat

We were at the airport at 5:00 AM, 45 minutes before the flight was going to land. Joyce commented as a young couple walked by...

Joyce: Newlyweds!

Bob: Okay, how do you know that?

Joyce: It's obvious.

Bob: They're just walking down the concourse. Why is it obvious that they're newly married.

Joyce: Well, for one thing they're talking to each other and smiling -- being very tender toward each other...

Bob: So people who've been married a while can't be loving...

Joyce: I didn't say that. But you didn't let me finish.

Bob: Sorry, so what are the other clues.

Joyce: They're talking and smiling, and ... he's wearing plaid and stripes.

Bob: So?

Joyce: She'll break him of that before too long.

Bob: But I dress funny, so then I guess we must still be newlyweds too.

Joyce: When was the last time you bought yourself a shirt?

Bob: Uhhh, welllll. ... Yeah, I guess I am housebroke. Hey, James and Amber's plane should be on the ground by now. I'd better call and tell him we're at baggage claim.

(I got James's voicemail, so I left a cheery message informing him where we were. Then after a few minutes my phone rang ...)

Dad: Hi, James! You guys must be about to walk up -- I see folks coming into the baggage claim area now.

James: Uh, Dad. We're not at DFW. Our flight leaves today. We arrive tomorrow morning.

Dad: Oh -- Well, uhhh, then I guess we'll see you tomorrow.

Joyce: They aren't here?

Bob: Nope, let's go to Cracker Barrel for breakfast.

The Paint Fairy

Two Christmases ago I posted a poem about my having extended the Santa myth just a bit longer than I probably should have. To set up this story, I need to share that ditty once again:

'Tis the night before Christmas and up at the table,
Little Ben is a-scribbling as best as he's able,
The kids at the school have been dissin' the man,
So Ben's little mind is devising a plan.

Ben should be nestled all snug in his bed,
But questions of truthfulness buzz in his head;
He scrawls on his card stock; I bring the ink pad.
He's cleverly testing if he has been had.

The milk and the cookies have always been downed,
But now he needs proof a little more sound.
His marker, it moves with a flair and a flash,
"Lev your tum print Santa---" he ends with a dash.

Our little wise guy, so cunning so slick,
Has baited his trap for alleged Saint Nick.
Then carefully sets out the ink pad and note,
So Santa will use it (like Iraqi's all vote).

"Ben's dashing, now dancing, now prancing, and fixin'
to check if old Santa rides a sleigh that he sits in!
I say, "To bed with ya now!" [down the end of the hall]
"Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
So Ben mounts to the bunk, his bed way up high.
Then Mom and I wait for the whispers to quiet,
We've got us a ploy, but not sure if he'll buy it.

Next morning Ben's thrilled by the handsome ink blot,
But checks out each hand, looking for spots.
With nary a stain on the parenting mitts,
He exultantly cries, "There is a Saint Nick!"

Mom and I stifle our dance in the zone,
(lest high-fives now possibly make our sin known:
With a wink of my eye and a nod of her head,
Without overt lying, we've once more misled).

A year then has past and (kids getting pubescent)
I figure it's high time that I get confessant.
I lay out the truth as plain as you come,
Answers Ben back: "How 'bout the print of the thumb?"

"Didn't check my toes, didja?" I humbly admit.
Ben looks at me hard, then utters, "Aw ... shux!"
But he heard me exclaim, ere he walked out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to y'all, and to y'all a good-night."

So now, here's the reason for that poetic interlude:

I'd just shoved the key into the lock when I heard the phone ringing. We'd had a wonderful three-day visit with that amazing bundle of energy and imagination who is our three-year-old granddaughter, but we (having hugged the darling goodbye and completed our four-hour drive home) were thankful to be home. Again the phone screamed for attention, so I quickly pushed the door open, stepped to the nearest phone, grabbed the receiver and handed it to my social secretary.

Joyce spoke:
"Hello?
...
Oh hi Ben! We just walked in -- are you ready to go to supper?
...
Where did you work today?
...
So how long do you figure it'll take you to drive back from ... ? Wow!!! Someone went and painted the living room and kitchen while we were gone!

By this point even I had started smelling the latex fumes and begun marveling at the dazzling brilliance that was so recently the patched ceiling (which I'd re-textured more than a year ago). I got on the phone and started quizzing Ben about how he could have accomplished all this in short time we'd been gone.

Then after we said goodbye to our youngest son, I spotted the note on the kitchen counter:

Breaking Tradition

Joyce and I have rituals -- probably because we’re both so brain-dead we can’t remember what we’re supposed to be doing if it isn’t what we always do. The only other possible explanation is we're Catholics and don't know it.

Anyway, one of our rituals is a conversation we have whenever I’m ready to leave the office. I call home and (thanks to caller ID) Joyce knows that I’m the one ringing her line, so she answers with her traditional liturgy.

You see, I usually take the train, but sometimes I'll drive, so (after one close call when I almost rode the train home -- thus abandoning my car in a downtown Dallas parking lot) we've mutually agreed to discuss my mode of transportation before I set out. Since I usually have a train to catch, we keep the conversation brief. Yesterday Joyce again answered with her usual one word question:
Joyce: "Train?"

But rather than replying as protocol dictates, "Train!" I spiced it up with:
Bob: "Hi, beautiful! How was your day?"

That stumped her:
Joyce: "Uhhhh ... Who is this? And How do you know I’m beautiful over the phone?"

Bob: "It's the guy you've been sleeping with. Your pretty face is the one thing I won't ever forget. By the way, I’m taking the train -- see you soon."

Joyce: {Sigh} "I love you, you know."

Bob: "Love you more."

Family Gathering

Last night a super-majority of my siblings coagulated at Roy's house to gorge on tamales and sundries. With that many folks assembled, its seemed like no fewer than two active conversations were in progress at any given time -- and generally one could move freely from one stream of effluvium to another without disturbance. I tapped into the flow of one conversation just as Roy was holding forth about one of his students during his days as a B52 instructor navigator at Castle AFB: "... Hildebrandt was just a dumb Swede from Maine. One day we were sitting around shootin' the breeze, when he shared the fact that his ambition was to go back to goat farming after he retired from the Air Force, 'There's nuthin' like the feel of warm goat teat on a cold morning.' To which one of the other instructors (who happened to be from New York) replied, 'And the best part is, you don't even have to get out of bed.'"

We, of course, roared with laughter, but what really carried that punchline was the look of complete mortification on the face of Joel's oldest daughter, a genuinely charming and gentle lady whom God has obviously misplaced in such a crude family.

Women!

We've lent the Alaskan contingent of the family Joyce's car while they're here in Texas visiting with friends and family, so Joyce is using my car and has been dropping me off at the train. This morning we pulled up to the station and, as we were sitting there, Joyce asked, "Are we waiting for your train?"

I answered, "Of course, why would we wait for a train I'm not taking?"

Joyce: Okay, so how would you answer if I asked, "Are the people on the platform the same people you ride with?"

Bob: Some are, some aren't. I recognize a few folks from my train.

Joyce: Okay, so how should I word it?

Bob: I'm not sure. Are you trying to ask if my train is the next one?

Joyce: Yes.

Bob: Okay, then why don't you say, "Is your train the next one?"

Joyce: Is your train the next one?

Bob: No, the next train is west-bound for Fort Worth. It should be here in a minute or two. My train comes as soon as that one leaves, about three minutes later.

Joyce: Does it have to be this difficult?

Bob: It's easy. The west-bound train comes by first, then ...

Joyce: No, do you have to be so irritating?

Bob: Sorry, I'm just trying to figure out what you want to know, and your questions aren't helping.

Joyce: {{big sigh}}

So here I sit, wondering to myself: Where did I go wrong?

Geriatric Foreplay

I felt humiliated, but Joyce asked ...

Joyce: So d'ya wanna go again?

Bob: I'd love to, but you don't have to do it just to please me.

Joyce: Poor thing. Did I wear you out?

Bob: No, but are you sure you're up to it?

Joyce: Do I hear some performance anxiety?

Bob: Oh Baby, trust me, you can never wear me out.

Joyce: Big talker! So let's get it on.

I shouldn't brag, but candor compels me to tell you: I nailed that woman of mine -- left her gasping, I did.

Bingoed three times (INCITER, MALINGER and EYELASH) and came out on top of a 390-299 score. She'll think twice before she challenges me to a Scrabble game again.