This guy I can be amused with:

I went to the store this afternoon. I was only in there for about 5 minutes and when I came out there was a damn motorcycle cop writing a parking ticket. So I went up to him and said, 'Come on buddy, how about giving a guy a break?' He ignored me and continued writing the ticket. So I called him a pencil necked nazi. He glared at me and started writing another ticket for having bald tires!! So I called him horseshit. He finished the second ticket and put it on the car with the first. Then he started writing a third ticket!! This went on for about 20 minutes... the more I abused him, the more tickets he wrote. I didn't give a damn. My car was parked around the corner...


But this guy I can very happily chuck out the window:

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 handled the situation. When I chucked my job and took early retirement a year ago, it became necessary for Nancy to get a full-time job both for extra income and for health insurance benefits that we need. She was a trained lab tech when we met thirty some years ago and was fortunate to land a job at the local medical center as a phlebotomist.

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 fishing or hunting 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, Nancy 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 Monday's lodge meeting or to Wednesday's or Saturday's poker club or to Tuesday's or Thursday's bowling 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 things 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.

Nancy 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 its just age talking. In fact, I try not to 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 Nancy 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 will consider that writing it was worthwhile.

Two women go out one weekend without their husbands. As they are on the way home, right before dawn, both of them drunk, they felt the desperate urge to pee. They noticed the only place to stop was a cemetery.

Scared and drunk, they stopped and decided to pee there in spite of their fears.

The first one did not have anything to wipe herself with, so she took off her panties and used them to clean herself and then discarded them.

The second woman, not finding anything either, thought 'I'm not getting rid of my panties . . .'so she used the ribbon of a flower wreath that was near a gravestone to clean herself.

The morning after, the two husbands were talking to each other on the phone, and one says to the other:

'We have to be on the look-out, it seems that our wives were up to no good last night . . . My wife came home without her panties . . .'

The other one responded:

'You're lucky . . . Mine came home with a card stuck to her ass that read,'We will never forget you!'

One day, Plato asked his teacher, "What is love? How can I find it?"

His teacher answered, "There is a vast wheat field in front. Walk forward without turning back, and pick only one stalk. If you find the most magnificent stalk, then you have found love."

Plato walked forward, and before long, he returned with empty hands, having picked nothing.

His teacher asked, "Why did you not pick any stalk?"

Plato answered, "Because I could only pick once, and yet I could not turn back. I did find the most magnificent stalk, but did not know if there were any better ones ahead, so I did not pick it. As I walked further, the stalks that I saw were not as good as the earlier one, so I did not pick any in the end.

His teacher then said, "And that is love".

On another day, Plato asked his teacher, "What is marriage? How can I find it?"

His teacher answered, "There is a thriving forest in front. Walk forward without turning back, and chop down only one tree. If you find the tallest tree, then you have found love".

Plato walked forward, and before long, he returned with a tree. The tree was not thriving, and it was not tall either. It was only an ordinary tree.

His teacher asked, "Why did you chop down such an ordinary tree?"

Plato answered, "Because of my previous experience. I walked halfway through the forest, but returned with empty hands. This time, I saw this tree, and I felt that it was not bad, so I chopped it down and brought it back. I did not want to miss the opportunity."

His teacher then said, "And that is marriage."

Jenny was a bright-eyed, pretty five-year-old girl. One day when she and her mother were checking out at the grocery store, Jenny saw a plastic pearl necklace priced at $2.50. How she wanted that necklace and when she asked her mother if she would buy it for her, her mother said, "Well, it is a pretty necklace, but it costs an awful lot of money. I'll tell you what. I'll buy you the necklace, and when we get home we can make up a list of chores that you can do to pay for the necklace. And don't forget that for your birthday Grandma just might give you a whole dollar bill, too. Okay?"

Jenny agreed, and her mother bought the pearl necklace for her. Jenny worked on her chores very hard every day, and sure enough, her Grandma gave her a brand new dollar bill for her birthday. Soon Jenny had paid off the pearls. How Jenny loved those pearls. She wore them everywhere to kindergarten, bed and when she went out with her mother to run errands. The only time she didn't wear them was in the shower - her mother had told her that they would turn her neck green.

Now Jenny had a very loving daddy. When Jenny went to bed, he would read Jenny her favorite story. One night when he finished the story, he said, "Jenny, do you love me?"

"Oh yes, Daddy, you know I love you," the little girl said.

"Well, then, give me your pearls."

"Oh! Daddy, not my pearls!" Jenny said. "But you can have Rosie, my favorite doll. Remember her? You gave her
to me last year for my birthday. And you can have her tea party outfit, too. Okay?"

"Oh no, darling, that's okay." Her father brushed her cheek with a kiss. "Good night, little one."

A week later, her father once again asked Jenny after her story, "Do you love me?"

"Oh yes, Daddy, you know I love you."

"Well, then, give me your pearls."

"Oh, Daddy, not my pearls! But you can have Ribbons, my toy horse. Do you remember her? She's my favorite. Her hair is so soft, and you can play with it and braid it and everything. You can have Ribbons if you want her, Daddy," the little girl said to her father.

"No, that's okay," her father said and brushed her cheek again with a kiss. "God bless you, little one. Sweet dreams."

Several days later, when Jenny's father came in to read her a story, Jenny was sitting on her bed and her lip was trembling. "Here, Daddy," she said, and held out her hand. She opened it and her beloved pearl necklace was inside. She let it slip into her father's hand. With one hand her father held the plastic pearls and with the other he pulled out of his pocket a blue velvet box. Inside of the box were real, genuine, beautiful pearls. He had them all along. He was waiting for Jenny to give up the cheap stuff so he could give her the real thing. So it is with our Heavenly Father. He is waiting for us to give up the cheap things in our lives so that he can give us beautiful treasure.

Isn't God good? Are you holding onto things which God wants you to let go of? Are you holding onto harmful or unnecessary partners, bad relationships, habits and activities which you have become so attached to that it seems impossible to let go? Sometimes it is so hard to see what is in the other hand but do believe in one thing ................... God will never take away something without giving you something better in its place.

There was a guy sunbathing in the nude. He saw little girl coming toward him, so he covered himself with the newspaper he was reading. The girl came up to him and asked, "What do you have under the newspaper?"

Thinking quickly, the guy replied, "A bird."

The girl walked away, and the guy fell asleep.

When he woke up, he was in a hospital in tremendous pain. The Police asked him what happened. The guy says, "I don't know. I was lying on the beach, this little girl asked me a question; I guess I dozed off, and the next thing I know is I'm here."

The police went to the beach, found the girl, and asked her,

"What did you do to that naked fellow?"

After a pause, the girl replied, "To him? Nothing. I was playing with his bird and it spit on me, so I broke its neck, cracked its eggs, and set its nest on fire!

Moral of the story...........never lie to kids.

Just in case you're thinking of what to say to your sweets...

-----------------------


YOU are the...

apple of my eye,
mango of my pie,
palaman of my tinapay,
keso of my monay,
teeth of my suklay,
fingers on my kamay,
blood in my atay,
bubbles of my laway,
sala of my bahay,
foundation of my tulay,
seeds of my palay,
clothes in my ukay-ukay,
calcium in my kalansay,
calamansi on my siomai,
inay of my tatay,
knot on my tie,
toyo on my kuchay,
vitamins in my gulay,
airplane of my Cathay,
stars of my sky,
hammer of my panday,
sand of my Boracay,
sultan of my Brunei,
highlands of my Tagaytay,
mole on my Ate Guy,
baba of my Ai-Ai,
voice of my Inday Garutay,
spinach of my Popeye,
sizzle when I fry,
wind when I paypay,
tungkod when I'm pilay,
feeling when I'm high,
shoulder when I cry,
wings when I fly,
prize when I vie,
cure to my "ARAY!",
answer to my "WHY?",
truth behind my lie,
the life after I die...


In short, you're the center of my buhay :-)

A Chinese couple gets married - and she's a virgin. Truth be told, he is none too experienced either.

On the wedding night, she covers naked under the bed sheets as her husband undresses. He climbs in next to her and tries to be reassuring:

"My darring" he says, "I know dis yo firs time and you berry frighten. I pomise you, I give you anyting you want, I do anyting - jus anyting you want, you say. Whatchou want?" he says, trying to sound experienced, which he hopes will impress his virgin bride.

A thoughtful silence follows and he waits patiently (and eagerly) for her request.

She eventually replies shyly and unsure, "I want .....numba 69"

More thoughtful silence, this time from him. Eventually, in a puzzled tone, he queries............You want numba 69 ... Beef wif Broccori?"

The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life.

Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, than education, than money, than circumstances, than failures, than successes, than what other people think, say, or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness, or skill. It will make or break a company, a church, a home.

The remarkable thing is we have a choice every day regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past. We cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude.

I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% how I react to it. And so it is with you.

We are in charge of our attitudes.

From one Paul Harvey:

We tried so hard to make things better for our kids that we made them worse. For my grandchildren, I'd like better. I'd really like for them to know about hand me down clothes and homemade ice cream and leftover meat loaf sandwiches. I really would. I hope they learn humility by being humiliated, and that they learn honesty by being cheated. I hope they learn to make their own beds and mow the lawn and wash the car. And I really hope nobody gives them a brand new car when they are sixteen. It will be good if at least one time they can see puppies born and their old dog put to sleep. I hope they get a black eye fighting for something they believe in. I hope they'd have to share a bedroom with their younger brother/sister. And it's all right if they have to draw a line down the middle of the room, but when the little one wants to crawl under the covers with them because they're scared, I hope they let him/her. When they want to see a movie and their little brother/sister wants to tag along, I hope they'll let him/her. I hope they have to walk uphill to school with their friends and that they live in a town where they can do it safely. On rainy days when they have to catch a ride, I hope they don't ask the driver to drop them two blocks away so they won't be seen riding with someone as uncool as their Mom. If they want a slingshot, I hope their Dad teaches them how to make one instead of buying one. I hope they learn to dig in the dirt and read books. When they learn to use computers, I hope they also learn to add and subtract in their head. I hope they get teased by their friends when they have their first crush on a boy\girl, and when they talk back to their mother that they learn what ivory soap tastes like. May they skin their knee climbing a mountain, burn their hand on a stove and stick their tongue on a frozen flagpole. I don't care if they try a beer once, but I hope they don't like it. And if a friend offers them dope or a joint, I hope they realize he is not a friend. I sure hope they make time to sit on a porch with their Grandma/Grandpa and go fishing with their Uncle. May they feel sorrow at a funeral and joy during the holidays. I hope their mother punishes them when they throw a baseball through a neighbor's window and that she hugs and kisses them at Hannukah/Christmas time when they give her a plaster mold of their hand. These things I wish for them - tough times and disappointment, hard work and happiness. To me, it's the only way to appreciate life.

Y'all say this prayer first!!! Do not delete until after you say this prayer for me!!!...:)

When there is nothing left but God, that is when you find out God is all you need. You gotta minute? Take 60 seconds and give this a shot! All you do is simply say the following small prayer for the person who sent you this.

Father, God bless ____________ in whatever it is that You know he or she may be needing this day!
And may __________'s life be full of your peace, prosperity and power as he/she seeks to have a closer relationship with You.

Amen.

Then send it on to five other people, including the one that sent it to you.

Within hours five people have prayed for you, and you caused a multitude of people to pray for other people. Then sit back and watch the power of God work in your life for doing the thing that you know He loves.

Dear Lord,

I thank You for this day.
I thank You for my being able to see and to hear this morning.
I'm blessed because You are a forgiving God and an understanding God.
You have done so much for me and You keep on blessing me.
Forgive me this day for everything I have done, said or thought that was not pleasing to you. I ask now for Your forgiveness.
Please keep me safe from all danger and harm.
Help me to start this day with a new attitude and plenty of gratitude.
Let me make the best of each and every day to clear my mind so that I can hear from You.
Please broaden my mind that I can accept all things.
Let me not whine and whimper over things I have no control over.
Let me continue to see sin through God's eyes and acknowledge it as evil.
And when I sin, let me repent, and confess with my mouth my wrongdoing, and receive the forgiveness of God.
And when this world closes in on me, let me remember Jesus' example-to slip away and find a quiet place to pray.
It's the best response when I'm pushed beyond my limits.
I know that when I can't pray, You listen to my heart.
Continue to use me to do Your will.
Continue to bless me that I may be a blessing to others.
Keep me strong that I may help the weak.
Keep me uplifted that I may have words of encouragement for others.
I pray for those that are lost and can't find their way.
I pray for those that are misjudged and misunderstood.
I pray for those who don't know You intimately.
I believe that God changes people and God changes things.
I pray for all my sisters and! brothers. For each and every family member in their households.
I pray for peace, love and joy in their homes that they are out of debt and all their needs are met.
I pray that every eye that reads this knows there is no problem, circumstance, or situation greater than God.
Every battle is in Your hands for You to fight.
I pray that these words be received into the hearts of every eye that sees them and every mouth that confesses them willingly.

This is my prayer.
In Jesus' Name, Amen.

Some years ago on a hot summer day in south Florida a little boy decided to go for a swim in the old swimming hole behind his house. In a hurry to dive into the cool water, he ran out the back door, leaving behind shoes,socks, and shirt as he went. He flew into the water, not realizing that as he swam toward the middle of the lake, an alligator was swimming toward the shore.

His mother in the house was looking out the window saw the two as they got closer and closer together. In utter fear, she ran toward the water,yelling to her son as loudly as she could. Hearing her voice, the little boy became alarmed and made a U-turn to swim to his mother. It was too late.

Just as he reached her, the alligator reached him. From the dock, the mother grabbed her little boy by the arms just as the alligator snatched his legs. That began an incredible tug-of-war between the two. The alligator was much stronger than the mother, but the mother was much too passionate to let go.

A farmer happened to drive by, heard her screams, raced from his truck, took aim and shot the alligator. Remarkably, after weeks and weeks in the hospital the little boy surrvived. His legs were extremely scarred by the vicious attack of the animal. And, on his arms, were deep scratches where his mother's fingernails dug into his flesh in her effort to hang on to the son she loved.

The newspaper reporter who interviewed the boy after the trauma, asked if he would show him his scars. The boy lifted his pant legs. And then, with obvious pride, he said to the reporter, "But look at my arms. I have great scars on my arms, too. I have them because my Mom wouldn't let go."

You and I can identify with that little boy. We have scars, too. No, not from an alligator, or anything quite so dramatic. But the scars of the past. Some of those scars are unsightly and have caused us deep regret. But, some wounds, my friend, are because God has refused to let go.

In the midst of your struggle, He's been there holding on to you. The Scripture teaches that God loves you. You are a child of God. He wants to protect you and provide for you in every way. But sometimes we foolishly wade into dangerous situations. The swimming hole of life is filled with peril - and we forget that the enemy is waiting to attack. That's when the tug-of-war begins - and if you have the scars of His love in your heart be very, very grateful. He did not and will not let you go.

I sat, with two friends, in the picture window of a quaint restaurant just off the corner of the towns-square. The food and the company were both especially good that day. As we talked, my attention was drawn outside, across the street. There, walking into town, was a man who appeared to be carrying all his worldly goods on his back. He was carrying, a well-worn sign that read, "I will work for food." My heart sank. I brought him to the attention of my friends and noticed that others around us had stopped eating to focus on him. Heads moved in a mixture of sadness and disbelief. We continued with our meal, but his image lingered in my mind. We finished our meal and went our separate ways. I had errands to do and quickly set out to accomplish them.

I glanced toward the town square, looking somewhat halfheartedly for the strange visitor. I was fearful, knowing that seeing him again would call for some response. I drove through town and saw nothing of him. I made some purchases at a store and got back in my car. Deep within me, the Spirit of God kept speaking to me: "Don't go back to the office until you've at least driven once more around the square." And so, with some hesitancy, I headed back into town. As I turned the square's third corner. I saw him. He was standing on the steps of the storefront church, going through his sack. I stopped and looked; feeling both compelled to speak to him, yet wanting to drive on. The empty parking space on the corner seemed to be a sign from God: an invitation to park. I pulled in, got out and approached the town's newest visitor.

"Looking for the pastor?" I asked.

"Not really," he replied, "just resting."

"Have you eaten today?"

"Oh, I ate something early this morning."

"Would you like to have lunch with me?"

"Do you have some work I could do for you?"

"No work," I replied. "I commute here to work from the city, but I would like to take you to lunch."

"Sure," he replied with a smile.

As he began to gather his things. I asked some surface questions.

"Where you headed?"

"St. Louis."

"Where you from?"

"Oh, all over; mostly Florida."

"How long you been walking?"

"Fourteen years," came the reply.

I knew I had met someone unusual. We sat across from each other in the same restaurant I had left earlier. His face was weathered slightly beyond his 38 years. His eyes were dark yet clear, and he spoke with an eloquence and articulation that was startling. He removed his jacket to reveal a bright red T-shirt that said, "Jesus is The Never Ending Story."

Then Daniel's story began to unfold. He had seen rough times early in life. He'd made some wrong choices and reaped the consequences. Fourteen years earlier, while backpacking across the country, he had stopped on the beach in Daytona. He tried to hire on with some men who were putting up a large tent and some equipment. A concert, he thought. He was hired, but the tent would not house a concert but revival services, and in those services he saw life more clearly. He gave his life over to God. "Nothing's been the same since," he said, "I felt the Lord telling me to keep walking, and so I did, some 14 years now."

"Ever think of stopping?" I asked.

"Oh, once in a while, when it seems to get the best of me. But God has given me this calling. I give out Bibles. That's what's in my sack. I work to buy food and Bibles, and I give them out when His Spirit leads."

I sat amazed. My homeless friend was not homeless. He was on a mission and lived this way by choice. The question burned inside for a moment and then I asked:

"What's it like?"!

"What?"

"To walk into a town carrying all your things on your back and to show your sign?"

"Oh, it was humiliating at first. People would stare and make comments. Once someone tossed a piece of half-eaten bread and made a gesture that certainly didn't make me feel welcome. But then it became humbling to realize that God was using me to touch lives and change people's concepts of other folks like me."

My concept was changing, too. We finished our dessert and gathered his things. Just outside the door, he paused. He turned to me and said, "Come Ye blessed of my Father and inherit the kingdom I've prepared for you. For when I was hungry you gave me food, when I was thirsty you gave me drink, a stranger and you took me in."

I felt as if we were on holy ground. "Could you use another Bible?" I asked.

He said he preferred a certain translation. It traveled well and was not too heavy. It was also his personal favorite. "I've read through it 14 times," he said.

"I'm not sure we've got one of those, but let's stop by our church and see."

I was able to find my new friend a Bible that would do well, and he seemed very grateful. "Where you headed from here?"

"Well, I found this little map on the back of this amusement park coupon."

"Are you hoping to hire on there for awhile?"

"No, I just figure I should go there. I figure someone under that star right there needs a Bible, so that's where I'm going next."

He smiled, and the warmth of his spirit radiated the sincerity of his mission. I drove him back to the town-square where we'd met two hours earlier, and as we drove, it started raining. We parked and unloaded his things.

"Would you sign my autograph book?" he asked. "I like to keep messages from folks I meet."

I wrote in his little book that his commitment to his calling had touched my life. I encouraged him to stay strong. And I left him with a verse of scripture from Jeremiah, "I know the plans I have for you," declared the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a future and a hope."

"Thanks, man," he said. "I know we just met and we're really just strangers, but I love you."

"I know," I said, "I love you, too."

"The Lord! is good."

"Yes, He is. How long has it been since someone hugged you?" I asked.

"A long time," he replied.

And so on the busy street corner in the drizzling rain, my new friend and I embraced, and I felt deep inside that I had been changed. He put his things on his back, smiled his winning smile and said, "See you in the New Jerusalem."

"I'll be there!" was my reply.

He began his journey again. He headed away with his sign dangling from his bedroll and pack of Bibles. He stopped, turned and said, "When you see something that makes you think of me, will you pray for me?"

"You bet," I shouted back, "God bless."

"God bless." And that was the last I saw of him.

Late that evening as I left my office, the wind blew strong. The cold front had settled hard upon the town. I bundled up and hurried to my car. As I sat back and reached for the emergency brake, I saw them... a pair of well-worn brown work gloves neatly laid over the length of the handle. I picked them up and thought of my friend and wondered if his hands would stay warm that night without them. I remembered his words: "If you see something that makes you think of me, will you pray for me?"

Today his gloves lie on my desk in my office. They help me to see the world and its people in a new way, and they help me remember those two hours with my unique friend and to pray for his ministry.

"See you in the New Jerusalem," he said. Yes, Daniel, I know I will.

"I shall pass this way but once. Therefore, any good that I can do or any kindness that I can show, let me do it now, for I shall not pass this way again."

Father, I ask you to bless my family, friends, relatives and e-mail buddies reading this right now. Show them a new revelation of your love and power. Holy spirit, I ask You to minister to their spirit at this very moment. Where there is pain, give them Your peace and mercy. Where there is self-doubt, release a renewed confidence through Your grace, In Jesus' precious Name. Amen."