Coping With Grief.

From Bob Whiley(Sheila’s alias on FB):

Grief is a process that is never truly complete on this side of life. For instance, we were out shopping at the after holiday sales when I spotted a mother and her teenaged daughter. The girl was lovely, she was slender with flowing auburn hair, she had a lovely face and she was wearing pretty clothes. She looked to be around 17 and she radiated life and health. She and her mother were happily gathering tree ornaments from the sale bins and I couldn’t take my eyes off of them, it was as if I was in a trance. Then, I heard the daughter say “Oh look Mom, these will be great for next year.” For a moment, I felt sad and admittedly, even a little bitter. I moved on.

When we got to the car, I told Kent the story of the pretty girl and her mother, then, almost to myself, I commented. “How nice it must be to be that confident of next year coming, to have that kind of innocense of life” he looked at me as he does sometimes, with an expression of understanding and terrible knowing. Then, I caught myself, and for a moment, it was like all of my pain fell into my lap and I could look down upon it all lying there, so heavy, and so tiring. That’s when I took a deep breath and said to him. “I am so happy for that mother and daughter, I hope they never learn that sometimes next year doesn’t come.” He nodded with tears in his eyes and we sat there in bonded silence for a moment. I would call that progress, at least on some level.

So if you wonder how we could have gone through what we have gone through and still, it appears that we live in a constant state of elation, especially when the moment involves Bobber or Mandy or our grandsons, or why we take/post 15 pictures when one would suffice, this is why, it is because we understand that every moment is a priceless gift, that every small adventure is a bright blessing, that every tender mercy within every tender moment that is shared with family and with each other is a big beautiful exciting crazy exceptional excellent miracle. An angel taught us this.

Why I Dearly Love My Gran…

Emmy Award

Emmy Award (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A lot of you may not know this, but my wonderful Gran, Sheila, co-author here on the portal, lost her beautiful daughter Miss Emmy at the tender age of twenty-two(Miss Emmy was). Her passing is mourned by many, who knew this darling young woman and even by those who didn’t, including yours truly.

My Gran and her fabulous husband Kenny have comforted each other through it all, have loved one another to a fault and have been there for each other and, I might add, for any needy soul, who comes into contact with them(again including yours truly!).

My admiration and gratitude for this couple knows no bounds and I would like to share one of my dear Gran’s soulful stories with you all. Here’s me taking my hat off to you and Kenny, Gran!

I’ve put my Gran’s story in a separate post:

Why is Chocolate a Salad?

Chocolate Extravaganza!

Why is Chocolate a Salad?
Let me turn this into a ballad:

Chocolate comes from nuts.
You can ask this of any klutz,
that nuts, they grows on trees,
with Polly, Nate and all the bees!

Now, bees, they suck on any plant,
so would I, I would, but can’t!
Because my lips is too big…
As if you would really give a fig!

Figs and plants make up a salad,
which is the whole point of this ballad.

But chocolate is so very versatile.
To ‘splain might take a while…
‘scuse me while I wipe my mouth,
for another chunk ‘s just gone south!

Chocolate bars and chocolate soap,
chocolate smokes, I should so hope!
Chocolate milk and a chocolate dud,
why not a chocolate Elmer Fudd?

How does chocolate mayo sound to you?
Two squirts of this dressing for you too?
Will you have this chocolate waltz with me?
One, munch, munch, two munch, munch, three?

Yes, chocolate is definitely a salad.
You can dance it like a waltz or a ballad.

Miso, Why it’s a Superfood:

From Bob Whiley:


Photo by my Gran, Sheila.


A traditional food of fermented soybeans which hails from Japan, authentic miso is brimming with good-for-your-belly probiotics, which help keep our gut flora healthy. Dr. Oz also recently discussed how this Japanese food lowers triglycerides, the fat in your blood that contributes to belly fat.

Dr. Oz’s Prescription: Pick up instant miso soup mix in the supermarket, but look for low-sodium varieties. Alternately, look for traditional red or white miso (sold as a paste) in the refrigerated natural food section of your grocery store. It makes simple but satisfying soup (simply add hot water.) From Dr. Oz.

My miso soup was delicious! Mine is instant, takes three minutes to prepare and I added the fresh spinach and had celery/peanut butter/raisins (ants on a log) with dates, almonds for desert.

A Father’s Reprimand. – Pause




A Father Reprimands His Homophobic Child In This Beautiful Letter

              I’m not sharing this because I think this letter is fantastic (even though it is). This letter really illustrates that prejudice isn’t always something that is learned from your parents.

Dear Christine:

I’m disappointed in you as a daughter. You’re correct that we have a “shame in the family,” but mistaken about what it is.

Kicking Chad out of your home simply because he told you he was gay is the real “abomination” here. A parent disowning her child is what “goes against nature.”

The only intelligent thing I heard you saying in all this was that “you didn’t raise your son to be gay.” Of course you didn’t. He was born this way and didn’t choose it any more than he being left-handed. You however, have made a choice of being hurtful, narrow-minded and backward. So, while we are in the business of disowning our children, I think I’ll take this moment to say goodbye to you. I now have a fabulous (as the gays put it) grandson to raise, and I don’t have time for heart-less B-word of a daughter.

If you find your heart, give us a call.

— Dad

Cancer Cure: Cannabis!

DEA: stick this in your pipe and DON’T forget to smoke it! Peace, Bros.

From Brave Mykayla:

Here is another success story from a family (now dear friends) that contacted me! Silas’s Momma is actually one of Mykayla’s fairy god parents from our fairy god parent drive last November/December She followed us here… and found herself walking the exact same path just a few months later with little Silas… So of course she knew what to do… RIGHT AWAY. All children should have SAFE ACCESS and cannabis oil AS SOON as they are diagnosed… Its easier to take care of before the cancer/symptoms get out of control. Brave Family LOVES you baby Silas, Ash, and family!

Saying Goodbye to Dad – Part Two.

English: The church of Aalst béguinage. Nederl...

English: The church of Aalst béguinage. Nederlands: Kerk van de begijnhof van Aalst. Русский: Церковь двора бегинок в Алсте, Бельгия. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

This morning July 15th 2013 at 08:15 AM my father passed away after three years of battling cancer. After his spirit had left his withered husk, he was left with a smile on his face, which gave us all a measure of relief. The medical staff wondered how he had managed to hold on for so long. He was a fighter, was my Dad.

I want to express my gratitude to the personnel of the palliative ward of the Aalst municipal hospital and of course to his wife and her family, whose efforts to make his final struggle easier went beyond anything that anyone could possibly hope for. I would like to thank my Dad for his wonderful job of helping to raise three wonderful   grandchildren, who stood by him every step of the way. And of course for all the things that he passed on to my sister and myself during the course of his life.

His wish was to be cremated and for his ashes to be scattered in the same place as his parents, which will happen later on in the week. May they be reunited in everlasting peace and wait for the rest of us to join them at a later stage. Gran and Gramps, your boy is coming! Give him a big hug from all of us. He is sorely missed…


Saying Goodbye to Dad…

Bronze figures, Fleetwood, Lancs

Bronze figures, Fleetwood, Lancs (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’ve just come from hospital, where my father is fighting a losing battle against the big C. I needed a breather. Isn’t cancer a bitch? It robs people of their dignity and reduces them to a state of defencelessness, much like an infant or even worse. It’s horrible to see him waste away in pain. Being stubborn(like me) he’s putting up his dukes against the grim reaper, but must inevitably lose. I could easily carry my Dad, who used to weigh close to three-hundred pounds, in my arms for miles, he’s so emaciated. Not the way a proud man wants to be remembered.

Anyways, I’ve told him that I love him and need to believe that he understood me. He is surrounded by family and friends, who all care for him in an obvious manner. I shall go back in a little while just to be there… May he cross over soon and be delivered from this ordeal. I personally know some kind and generous souls, who will be waiting there with open arms to receive him.

Goodbye, Pa. You will not be forgotten!

A Picnic is a Fun Thing: a bit of history on eating outdoors.



Click <here> to read more!

From  Annette Bromley on Expertscolumn:

Novels, short stories, even community histories talk about picnics and how the common picnic has served folks and brought people together through the ages. A picnic, according to the dictionary is “a meal taken in the open air (outside) for pleasure or excursion (people traveling long distances bringing a meal to eat with them to be eaten somewhere outside along their journey path.)”

Today we talk about cook-outs, barbecues and tailgate parties but a picnic is not a word as commonly used in today’s society, and yet all three of these technically are a picnic even if we give them another name. A picnic is a good thing, fun and filled with memories that last a lifetime.

Picnics are no new thing. They have been around for eons of time. The shepherds in the fields enjoyed their meal in the open air while they watched their flocks. Perhaps they had cheese, fruit, hard bread and probably wine of some sort and water from a nearby stream or spring. They may have even cooked a stew of wild herbs and vegetables and maybe wild game that was prepared over an open campfire, (what we might call a cookout today.) The pioneers and homesteaders of the westward movement did much the same, gathering around the campfire to cook their evening meal under the stars.

Cowboys, wranglers all had picnics when they gathered around the chuck wagon for a meal of whatever “Cookie” through together over their campfire. Coffee grounds boiled in water and then set aside to cool long enough for the grounds to settle. That coffee was strong but good. There were probably beans seasoned with salt pork and molasses or a stew made of root vegetables and various herbs and spices and hard bread or biscuits as well as probably ale or hard cider or a jug of liquor passed around; and of course water from a stream or spring, fresh and cool.

Farmers often had their noon meal right in the field where they were working rather than coming back to the farmhouse to eat and having to return to the field. It saved time. They often brought leftover meat, bread, cheese, fruit, cookies, jugs of lemonade or cider and jugs of water with them that they carried to the field in a covered basket packed with ice to keep the food cold that they left nearby in some shaded place. Come noon the farmer and his field hands would gather in the shade for a picnic and to rest awhile before returning to their fieldwork….


A Picnic is a Fun Thing: a bit of history on eating outdoors


English: This pic is date 1933 of my dad mom a...

English: This pic is date 1933 of my dad mom and dad from the old county(not Ralphie’s!) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My wanderlust is acting up again,

but alas I shall have to stay,

for my folks are set to go away.

Go away for good to somewhere better.


My gypsy soul is getting restless,

but my duty keeps me here.

Filial love is not mere words.

Mom and Dad, you need not fear!


My heart belongs in foreign soil.

This dreary country drags me down,

but stay I shall until the curtain call,

for blood is always thicker than water.

What Is Politics? – Joke

Government spending

Government spending (Photo credit: 401(K) 2013)


From “Funny jokes & pics”


A little boy goes to his dad and asks, “What is politics?”

Dad says, “Well son, let me try to explain it this way: I’m the breadwinner of the family, so let’s call me Capitalism. Your Mom, she’s the administrator of the money, so we’ll call her the Government. We’re here to take care of your needs, so we’ll call you the People. The nanny, we’ll consider her the Working Class. And your baby brother, we’ll call him the Future. Now, think about that and see if that makes sense.”

So the little boy goes off to bed thinking about what dad had said. Later that night, he hears his baby brother crying, so he gets up to check on him. He finds that the baby has severely soiled his diaper.

So the little boy goes to his parents’ room and finds his mother sound asleep. Not wanting to wake her, he goes to the nanny’s room. Finding the door locked, he peeks in the keyhole and sees his father in bed with the nanny. He gives up and goes back to bed.

The next morning, the little boy says to his father, “Dad, I think I understand the concept of politics now.”

The father says, “Good son, tell me in your own words what you think politics is all about.”

The little boy replies, “Well, while Capitalism is screwing the Working Class, the Government is sound asleep, meanwhile the People are being ignored and the Future is in deep shit!” 🙂


What if Chickens Ruled? – LOL

What if one day the world were ruled by chickens, gigantic ones, who came zapping along the highway in their chicken-mobiles? And they saw some dumb human standing on the side of the road asking himself whether he should cross or not. What would they say to themselves? -> Whatever he´s thinking, I don´t give a shit, I like my humans crusty!

Chicken Crossing the Road

Wife Rules The Roost. – Joke

English: Portrait of Charlie Chaplin

English: Portrait of Charlie Chaplin (Photo credit: Wikipedia) Just ask Charlie!

From  climber1 on Experience Prohect:

Walking into the bar, Mike said to Charlie the bartender, ‘Pour me a stiff one – just had another fight with the little woman.’
‘Oh yeah?’ said Charlie, ‘And how did this one end?’
‘When it was over,’ Mike replied, ‘She came to me on her hands and knees.’
‘Really,’ said Charles, ‘Now that’s a switch! What did she say?’
She said, ‘Come out from under the bed, you little chicken.’

Our Mary.

English: The Street, Stratford St Mary Looking...

English: The Street, Stratford St Mary Looking along the village street past the Black Horse pub. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In our village, we only have the one pub, which is run by Dan and his wife, who is affectionately known as Our Mary. There used to be many pubs in our village, but the times being what they are, we’re down to just the one, which is aptly called “Home away from home”. What with the exceptionally high unemployment figures in our region, more than half the adult males spend more time there, than they do with their families.

Thus anything affecting Our Mary indirectly affects the whole village. It is a sad but true fact, that Our May is grouchy in the extreme, when she is on her P.M.S. or some such feminine mystery. It would therefore not be uncommon for a man to come home in a foul mood and have his wife comment: “Oh, it’s that time of the month again is it?”

Yes, our village life functions in mysterious ways at times. The wife and myself have five children, one of whom is called Mary. But if the missus were to inquire about the well-being of our Mary, I would have to ring the pub to find out what the latest news about her was, as our daughter is simply referred to as Mary. Let me point out, that our family is not the only one where this principle applies.

My little Mary is a wonderful child, but somehow she doesn’t seem to get her fair share of attention from us. Whether that is, because the others are more energetic or just needier, I could not tell you. I try to stay on top of this issue, but I must admit that I fail at times. Don’t for a minute think that there is anything wrong with the girl! I believe that she is being more considerate than her siblings, even if she looses out because of it, which makes her even more special in my eyes.

One evening, as I made an inconsequential remark about Our Mary, I detected a wistful look in my darling Mary’s eyes. I noticed this, because when it comes to my loved ones, my emotional radar is always working full blast. I decided to redress this situation. Come ten p.m., bedtime for all our gang, regardless of their ages, I beckoned her over. She was a bit unsure, because this was an unusual occurrence.

As any parent can tell you, it takes about an additional hour after the announcement of bedtime, for your offspring to really settle down. So you have to be strict, if you want to get any sleep yourself. My Mary settled on my lap and looked up at me with a quizzical look on her angelic face.

Before I go on, I should point out that my sofa has its back facing the kitchen, where my spouse was holding an impromptu jam session, involving assorted pots and pans, which was basically a signal that yours truly should come and join her and get on with his kitchen duties. That would have to wait, for this was important!

Furthermore, as any married man can and will attest to, any married lady anywhere in the world, seems to have developed super-duper senses, when it comes to keeping track of what her hubby is up to. I did not entertain even a shadow of a doubt, that my one and only would hear every syllable of what transpired and this between each and every cling and clang of her rhythm section. Having firmly established this incontrovertible truth, I can now get on with the rest of my story.

I whispered in my daughter’s ear: “Honey, I’m going to tell you a little secret. This will be between you, me and the telly! OK?” She nodded eagerly. “Do you know, why I don’t call you “Our Mary”? She shook her head uncertainly.

“That is because somewhere along the line, I stopped thinking of you as Mary. Now, don’t get me wrong, Mary is your name, which Mummy and I gave to you when you were born and you will always, for as long as you live, be our daughter Mary, whom we both love to bits.

But somewhere along the line, I started to think of you as “My Little Kitten”, because you do so love to curl up on my lap, with your curly head against my heart and sigh in contentment. There were times when I thought, I could almost hear you purr. And that’s why I think of you as Daddy’s Little Kitten! Make sure you don’t tell anyone, you hear!” She had a delighted grin on her pretty face, when she fairly skipped up the stairs, to go to bed.

Next, my wife, the mother of my children, which makes her kind of sacred to me in my mind, came and hugged my tight and whispered in turn: “Hon, I just fell in love with you all over again! Now come and dry them dishes!”

Now you, reader, please tell me: without love, would life have any meaning?

Lil? Red Rooster! – Joke.

An adult male chicken, the rooster has a promi...

An adult male chicken, the rooster has a prominent fleshy crest on his head called a comb and hanging flaps of skin on either side under his beak called wattles. Français : Un coq, mâle adulte entier de l’espèce Gallus gallus, possède un appendice charnu sur sa tête nommé crête et un sous chaque oeil nommé caroncule. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

From “funny jokes & pics “

A farmer brought a Rooster home. As soon as the rooster entered the farm, he started screwing all the 200 hens. The farmer is impressed.
At lunch, Rooster screws all the 200 hens again.   The farmer is becoming uncomfortable and worried now. …  …
The next day, he sees that the Rooster doing it to the ducks, geese & a goat.
Finally, the farmer sees the Rooster lying on the ground, weak and pale, half- dead & vultures circling over it’s head.
The Farmer rebukes him and says “You deserved it, you horny desperate idiot.!!
The Rooster opens one eye, and pointing towards the sky, says “Sssshh! Speak softly! I’m just waiting for them to land!”

This is the Dark Time

This is the dark time,

burn the candles,

Light the fires

and wait.

The year is turning.

This is the dark time,

Time of dreams

and magic –

time to go inside

and seek the treasure

in our souls.

This is the dark time

Time of hearth and home,

And holding loved ones

In our hearts.

This is the dark time –

Mark it’s passing.

The Quest.

English: Saarloos Wolfdog female Polski: Suczk...

English: Saarloos Wolfdog female Polski: Suczka Wilczaka Saarloosa (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

After the ultimate tragedy, we went walkabout, She, my wolfdog, and me. We walked for mile upon mile, until the miles became meaningless. We crossed mountains and rivers, with no real course in mind, confident that the end of the road would find us and not we it.

A shaman watched us from up high, in the guise of an eagle, leading us ever forward towards his mountain abode. When at last we arrived, he bade us sit by the fire and made me tea and have water to She. “What are you looking for?”he asked me. I had to think for a while.

After wetting my throat, I finally croaked: “A home for my soul, if such a thing exists, Grandfather. I’ve been running around aimlessly for far too long.”

“The soul needs no home,” he spake, “for it is timeless.”

“A goal then,” I persisted, “or a sense of direction.”

“The direction is forward!”, he spake, “The goal is to live life.”

“This is getting me nowhere.” I muttered, but the old man had heard.

“Nowhere starts here.” the shaman spake,”The direction is forward. Follow the Wolf and you shall know all.”

I looked at She, whose head was in my lap. Her trusting eyes turned up to mine. I had a revelation then: The soul is at home any which where, when it loves unconditionally!

I thanked the old man, who had set me free and we left, She and me.

Pants! – Joke

A picture by Gustave Doré of Mother Goose read...

A picture by Gustave Doré of Mother Goose reading written (literary) fairy tales (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A man comes into a bookshop and asks the sales lady where he might find the book: The Man Wears the Pants at Home!

She answers: “Second floor, Sir. In the fairy tale-section.”

Wishing on a Star.

The Wishing Fish Clock in the Regent Shopping ...

The Wishing Fish Clock in the Regent Shopping Arcade, Cheltenham, may be the world’s tallest mechanical clock. The vertical distance from the duck to the fish is 14 metres. It weighs 3 tons. On the hour the fish that is suspended under the clock revolves and blows out bubbles. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I was dreaming of a home
underneath a rainbow’s dome.
A friendly place to come and call.
My motto: Welcome one and all!

With thick rugs and a cosy chair.
Ralphie’s very own cushy lair.
Full of art and plants and books.
My own paintings hung from hooks.

Bric-a-brac and knickknacks all over.
And a big shaggy dog called Rover.
A garden with a veggie plot,
to hoe and mow, but not a lot!

With wind chimes tinkling in the air.
Hung from that tree right over there.
And a sweet lady to cuddle,
under blankets in a huddle.

To share secrets with and soft kisses
and perhaps to some day call Missus.
I shall wish upon a falling star
that this day not be so very far!


Naked trees and barren hills circle round this place
Brown doves cuddle brushy pines and mourn with solemn grace
The clock upon the mantle banishes the dawn
As noontime blows and drips upon the forest lawn
Suppertime will find me stirring at the pot
Sweet and savory spices, my hair up in a knot
Windswept winter kisses, old dogs around my feet
Blessed is the winter time, sweetest of the sweet.

Mouthwatering Mushroom Croustades With Sweet Red Pepper Sauce

From The Flaming Vegan

Oh, the benefits of recycling! I discovered this recipe in an old magazine recently whilst having a clear-out, so I am re-using it here, just as I have recycled the magazine! I have adapted it and cooked it for dinner tonight, and it is dee-lish-us, and doesn’t take too long. These crusty veg delights are  ideal for lunch or a light supper, and you could add different combinations of vegetables for the filling. I think that these croustades would also be good to serve on Bonfire Night, as an alternative to, or alongside, jacket potatoes.

Ingredients (Serves 4 )

  4 round crusty bread rolls

6 tbsp olive oil

1 clove garlic, peeled and crushed

Salt and pepper to taste

4 cups of mixed mushrooms, eg oyster, chestnut, button, etc

1 red pepper, seeded and thinly sliced

½ cup rocket /aragula leaves

For sauce: 3 red peppers + a pinch of sugar

To serve: mixed leafy salad tossed in wholegrain mustard dressing

To read on <Click Here!>

Why Do Bad Things Happen to Good People?


Worried! (Photo credit: photoloni)

There is a word in the Arab language called ‘makhtub` and it gives me the willies! I heard that it is mentioned in the Tora somewhere aswell and it means”It is written!” Which is to say that from the moment you are born until you expel your final breath, everything you say, feel or do is pre-destined. If you truly grasp the enormity of this concept, you want to just lay down and die, for what is the use of ever trying!?

I hear you saying: “But the Lord gave man the freedom of choice!”  What choice is that, when everything was written down even before you were born? And even if you choose to live as good a life as you possibly can, what if you get caught up in circumstances beyond your control, as many of us are?

Let us say you are a father or a mother, who works hard every single day to provide the best things in life for your children and for your partner and then you get caught up in a war (probably over some silly dispute concerning religion) and you and your family are subjected to the most horrifying ordeals, being innocents? What kind of deity lets these kinds of things happen?

And on the other hand the nasties are thriving, probably because the devil takes care of his own. Whichever way you look at it, I choose to stay on the good side, whatever happens, but it makes me doubt everything and yes.. it makes me angry! Why do bad things happen to good people?It is so grossly unfair! But then, who ever said life was fair?

What about worrying? No amount of worrying has ever changed the outcome of any given situation. Yes, but were are human after all. Sometimes I find myself wanting to kick my own behind for having worried over something, when after all the anxiety, what I wanted or needed came to happen in the end anyway. But there is never any guarantee, is there!??

My biggest worry is: Am I going to die on the streets like a dog, like so many of my friends, or will the Lord grant me some more happy years? In any case, I shall ignore Makhtub and do my damndest to ensure that the outcome be positive! On this upbeat note, I hug you all. Ciao from Ralphie and may the Light be with you!

Garlic: Natural Antibiotic.


Garlic pierced roast

Garlic pierced roast (Photo credit: Happy Sleepy)


Garlic: The Wonder Drug


From The Flaming Vegan.


I love garlic. Yes, yes I know this statement of mine will raise a few (OK, maybe a lot of) eyebrows and many will go yuck. But its true. Its strong pungent smell is repulsive to many people and supposedly, as the superstition goes, to the vampires as well. However, its smell does not deter me from absolutely loving it to the extent that I try to put it in almost everything I make. Infact my husband has complained many times about its quantity in the dishes I make. So to satisfy him, I now sometimes make them just for myself and put garlic in them to my heart’s content.


To read more press <here!>




The Fresh Gardener – Joke.

List of botanical gardens in Australia

List of botanical gardens in Australia (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Here´s one I thought up yesterday(My very first self-made joke!):

There was a rich man, who had a beautiful wife and who loved his garden, but didn´t have all the time he would have liked to spend caring for it and therefore employed a gardener. The gardener was young and handsome and fancied the Misses, who didn´t mind a bit of flirting, but would never think of taking it any further. However, the husband thought the two were having an affair, which they were definitely not.

One day the handsome gardener went too far and the Lady of the house fired him. As luck would have it, the same day an old and gnarled gardener came to ask if there was a vacancy. The Lady took pity on him and offered him the job. She even told him he could sleep in the shed, should he wish. He did and the woman came to visit him every so often to inquire after his health.

The husband, unaware of all the developments,  had seen her enter and thought to himself: “Hahah, so that is their love-nest. I shall confront them one of these days!”(He was working up the courage, for his wife was a rather formidable lady.)

Totally unrelated to this, one day the rich man had a brilliant idea about making his garden even more beautiful. Having green fingers himself, he set to and when he´d finished the job, he admired it for it really did look magnificent. He conceived even bigger plans for his garden and the next day he told a female colleague about them. She immediately responded with: “But George, don´t you have a gardener to do all this work?” He replied: “But of course I do!” and thought to himself to let the gardener do all the heavy work and thus keep him away from his Missus.

When he came home, he immediately went to look for him, but on his way over he saw his wife enter the shed and thought: “Right, I am going to confront these two right now!”, not wanting to catch them in flagrante, for he was a gentleman. He stormed into the shed, pointed at his wife and shouted: “YOU!” He then turned towards the gardener, with another: “And YOU!” and then spotted the old man, whom he´d set eyes on before.

He immediately turned to his wife again and went: “Oh my God, Margaret, what have you done to the man? Just look at the poor wretch!”

I was telling this joke to Wolf, while we were both sitting on a park bench yesterday and when I came to the end, he did not laugh. I rather peevishly asked him: “I´m not boring you, am I?” He turned to me with a straight face and simply said: “No.” Then it dawned on me and I asked him: “You weren´t listening, were you?” And the cretin admitted it and smiled! And then we both laughed. Toodeloo from the both of us!

Tea or Lemonade? – Joke

Ice cubes in a glass of iced tea. Lighting con...

Ice cubes in a glass of iced tea. Lighting consisted of sunlight coming through the kitchen window, background is my kitchen table. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

From Spicewood on The Spoof!

It was a hot Saturday evening in the summer of 1957 and Fred had a
date with Peggy Sue. He arrived at her house and rang the bell.

“Oh, come on in!” Peggy Sue’s mother said as she welcomed Fred in.
“Have a seat in the living room. Would you like something to drink?
Lemonade? Iced tea?”

“Iced tea, please,” Fred said. Mom brought the iced tea.

“So, what are you and Peggy planning to do tonight?” she asked.

“Oh, probably catch a movie, and then maybe grab a bite to eat at the
Malt shop, maybe take a walk on the beach…”

“Peggy likes to screw, you know,” Mom informed him.

“Uh…really?” Fred replied, with raised eyebrows.

“Oh, yes!” the mother continued. “When she goes out with her friends,
that’s all they do!”

“Is that so?” asked Fred, incredulous.

“Yes,” said the mother. “As a matter of fact, she’d screw all night if
we let her!”

“Well, thanks for the tip,” Fred said as he began thinking about
alternate plans for the evening.

A moment later, Peggy Sue came down the stairs looking pretty as a
picture wearing a pink blouse and full circle skirt, and with her hair
tied back in a bouncy ponytail. She greeted Fred.

“Have fun, kids,” the mother said as they left.

Half an hour later, a completely disheveled Peggy Sue burst into the
house and slammed the front door behind her.

“The Twist, Mom!” she angrily yelled at her mother. “The dance Is called the Twist!”

7 Year old getting Married – Nepali Joke.

Susie Carmichael

Susie Carmichael (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

*** Little Bobby (seven) was in love with Little Susie (same age) who lived next door. One day, Bobby went to Susie’s dad and announced (as seriously as he could), “I’m in love with Susie, and we’re getting married”. Amused, Susie’s dad started asking questions (in the hopes to discourage the idea). Susie’ dad: “Where will you live?” Bobby: “Well, Susie has a playhouse in the back yard, so we’re gonna live there.” Susie’s dad: “How are you going to make money to support her?” Bobby: “Well, Susie gets 75 cents a week, and I get .25 a week.” “That should be more than enough!” Seeing that Bobby was still serious, Susie’s dad asked, “Well, what about children?” Bobby perked up and quickly answered, “Oh, we have that figured out already. Whenever Susie lays an egg, I’m gonna stomp on it!”

This comes from, in honor of the new Nepali visitors to our site. Welcome!

Bob the Chicken – Joke.

Cover of "Bob"

Cover of Bob

Swiped this one from steve7000 on EP! <Click Here! for more>

Bob came home drunk one night, slid into bed beside his sleeping wife, and fell into a deep slumber..

He awoke before the Pearly Gates, where St. Peter said, ‘You died in your sleep, Bob….’

Bob was stunned. ‘I’m dead? No, I can’t be! I’ve got too much to live for. Send me back!’

St.. Peter said, ‘I’m sorry, but there’s only one way you can go back, and that is as a chicken.’

Bob was devastated, but begged St. Peter to send him to a farm near his home…. The next thing he knew, he was covered with feathers, clucking, and pecking the ground.

A rooster strolled past. ‘So, you’re the new hen, huh? How’s your first day here?’

‘Not bad,’ replied Bob the hen, ‘but I have this strange feeling inside. Like I’m gonna explode!’

‘You’re ovulating,’ explained the rooster.
‘Don’t tell me you’ve never laid an egg before? ‘

‘Never,’ said Bob.

‘Well, just relax and let it happen,’ says the rooster. ‘It’s no big deal.’

Bob did, and a few uncomfortable seconds later, out popped an egg!

Bob was overcome with emotion as he experienced motherhood. He soon laid another egg — his joy was overwhelming.

As he was about to lay his third egg, he felt a smack on the back of his head, and heard his wife yell…..

BOB, wake up. You SH!T the bed!’