Thursday, May 23, 2013


I apologize for the pictureless blog last week.  Let's try again! 

We had fun with old folks' humor recently!  I qualify for that. But I also reared three kids and will soon welcome our 14th grandchild, so this blog balances the equation.  Kids' theology cuts to the truth as they see it.  Here are their letters to God.

Friday, May 17, 2013


Since I now receive my Social Security check, I qualify to poke fun at the elderly. . .US elderly.

A couple in their nineties were both having problems remembering things. During a check-up, the doctor tells them they're physically okay, but they might want to start writing things down to help them remember.

Later that night, while watching TV, the old man gets up from his chair. "Want anything while I'm in the kitchen?" he asks.

"Will you get me a bowl of ice cream?"


"Don't you think you should write it down so you can remember it?" she asks.

"No, I can remember it."

"Well, I'd like some strawberries on top, too. Maybe you should write it down, so as not to forget it?"

He says, "I can remember that. You want a bowl of ice cream with strawberries."

"I'd also like whipped cream. I'm certain you'll forget that, write it down?" she asks.

Irritated, he says, "I don't need to write it down, I can remember it! Ice cream with strawberries and whipped cream. . .I got it, for goodness sake!"

Then he toddles into the kitchen. After about 20 minutes, the old man returns from the kitchen and hands his wife a plate of bacon and eggs. She stares at the plate for a moment.

"Where's my toast?"

An elderly couple had dinner at another couple's house, and after eating, the wives left the table and went into the kitchen. 

The two gentlemen were talking, and one said, "Last night we went out to a new restaurant and it was really great. I would recommend it very highly." 

The other man said, "What's the name of the restaurant?"  

The first man thought and thought then finally asked, "What's the name of that flower you give to someone you love?  You know, the one that's red and has thorns."

"Do you mean a rose?"

"Yes, that's the one," replied the man. He then turned towards the kitchen and yelled, "Rose, what's the name of that restaurant we went to last night?"

Hospital regulations require a wheel chair for patients being discharged. However, while working as a student nurse, I found one elderly gentleman already dressed and sitting on the bed with a suitcase at his feet, who insisted he didn't need my help to leave the hospital.

After a chat about rules being rules, he reluctantly let me wheel him to the elevator. 

On the way down I asked him if his wife was meeting him.  "I don't know," he said. "She's still upstairs in the bathroom changing out of her hospital gown." 

A senior citizen said to his eighty-year old buddy, "So I hear you're getting married?"


"Do I know her?"


"This woman, is she good looking?"

"Not really."

"Is she a good cook?"

"Naw, she can't cook too well."

"Does she have lots of money?"

"Nope! Poor as a church mouse."

"Well, then, is she good in bed?"

"I don't know." 

"Why in the world would you want to marry her then?"

"Because she can still drive!" 

A man was telling his neighbor, "I just bought a new hearing aid.  It cost me $4,000 but it's state of the art.  It's perfect!" 

"Really," answered the neighbor.  "What kind is it?"  

"Twelve thirty." 

Morris, an 82 year-old man, went to the doctor to get a physical. A few days later, the doctor saw Morris walking down the street with a gorgeous young woman on his arm.  A couple of days later, the doctor spoke to Morris and said, "You're really doing great, aren't you?"

Morris replied, "Just doing what you said, Doc: 'Get a hot mamma and be cheerful.'"

The doctor said, 'I didn't say that. I said, 'You've got a heart murmur; be careful.'"

A little old man shuffled slowly into an ice cream parlor and pulled himself slowly, painfully, up onto a stool. After catching his breath, he ordered a banana split.

The waitress asked kindly, "Crushed nuts?"

"No," he replied, "Arthritis."

Friday, May 10, 2013


Papa and Grandma Tippett worked hard to keep their yard raked.  Raked! No grass.     Just dirt under big shade trees.   My husband, Doug, works hard to keep our yard mowed.  Until last week he used my daddy's 23 year old Toro lawn mower.  "They don't make 'em like this anymore," the Toro dealer mourned with him, over the dead equipment.  Our family has a history of yard men.
Our yard, thanks to my yard man, Doug.

I wonder just when we evolved from dirt yards to grass. Here's one parable from my friend, Marilyn Pritchard.  (She also designed my Kat's Pause logo above.)

Frank, you know all about gardens and nature. What in the world is going on down there on the planet? What happened to the dandelions, violets, milkweeds and beautiful plants I started eons ago? I had a perfect no-maintenance garden plan. Those plants grow in any type of soil, withstand drought and multiply with abandon. The nectar from the long-lasting blossoms attracts butterflies, honey bees and flocks of songbirds. I expected to see a vast garden of colors by now.

But, all I see are these green rectangles.

It's the tribes that settled there, Lord. The Suburbanites. They started calling your flowers "weeds" and went to great lengths to kill them and replace them with grass.
Grass? But, it's so boring. It's not colorful. It doesn't attract butterflies, birds and bees; only grubs and sod worms. It's sensitive to temperatures. Do these Suburbanites really want all that grass growing there?
Apparently so, Lord. They go to great pains to grow it and keep it green. They begin each spring by fertilizing grass and poisoning any other plant that crops up in the lawn.
The spring rains and warm weather probably make grass grow really fast. That must make the Suburbanites happy.
Apparently not, Lord. As soon as it grows a little, they cut it -- sometimes twice a week.
They cut it? Do they then bale it like hay?

Not exactly, Lord. Most of them rake it up and put it in bags.

They bag it? Why? Is it a cash crop? Do they sell it?

No, Sir, just the opposite. They pay to throw it away.
Now, let me get this straight. They fertilize grass so it will grow. And, when it does grow, they cut it off and pay to throw it away?
Yes, Sir.

These Suburbanites must be relieved in the summer when we cut back on the rain and turn up the heat. That surely slows the growth and saves them a lot of work.
You aren't going to believe this, Lord. When the grass stops growing so fast, they drag out hoses and pay more money to water it, so they can continue to mow it and pay to get rid of it.
What nonsense. At least they kept some of the trees. That was a sheer stroke of genius, if I do say so myself. The trees grow leaves in the spring to provide beauty and shade in the summer. In the autumn, they fall to the ground and form a natural blanket to keep moisture in the soil and protect the trees and bushes. It's a natural cycle of life.
You better sit down, Lord. The Suburbanites have drawn a new circle. As soon as the leaves fall, they rake them into great piles and pay to have them hauled away. 

No!? What do they do to protect the shrub and tree roots in the winter to keep the soil moist and loose?
After throwing away the leaves, they go out and buy something which they call mulch. They haul it home and spread it around in place of the leaves.
And where do they get this mulch?

They cut down trees and grind them up to make the mulch.
Enough! I don't want to think about this anymore. St. Catherine, you're in charge of the arts. What movie have you scheduled for us tonight?
"Dumb and Dumber," Lord. It's a story about....

Never mind, I think I just heard the whole story from St. Francis.

Marilyn said I should add this and I usually do what she suggests because good editors are rare! 

Our Kimberly was a preschooler strolling my dad's yard as he admired his green rectangle.  She observed his neighbors' yards and comforted him, "Awwww, poor Granddaddy.  You don't have any pretty, yellow flowers like everybody else."   She had no idea how hard he worked not to have pretty, yellow flowers.

Friday, May 3, 2013


Recently 60 Minutes reported a Yale study on babies too young to even talk. The experiments revealed their biases toward good or bad, kind or mean, fairness or unfairness, generosity or selfishness. Social virtues may be wired or taught.  

Our three children and 13 (almost 14) grandchildren taught us something about babies. While not scientific, my own interpretation of baby talk might go something like this!

I used to tell my younger brother he was adopted.
 I really SHOULD apologize to Ricky.  One day. . .

My dear mother used to say God made
2 year olds cute so we wouldn't kill 'em!

Oh the games people play.

Expert on the obvious

Light bulb moment

Poop happens.