FAN OF BASEBALL (Yogisms)

The 2014 season of Major League Baseball in North America begins in two days on March 30. Impressed that I know that?  Don't be.  If Wikipedia can be trusted, let them impress you because that's where I dug out that nugget.  At least it's one sport I do understand and played a bit in my youth.

I'm moved particularly by one character in baseball. He's considered by many to be one of the best catchers.  But I like him because we share similar skills.  Not on the field but with foot-in-mouth quotes. Yogi Berra is a guy I love and laugh at! You will too at some of his famous lines.  They're affectionately know as 

Yogisms:

I never said most of the things I said.

Baseball is ninety percent mental and the other half if physical.

A nickel ain't worth a dime anymore.

Little League baseball is very good because it keeps parents off the street.

If  you come to a fork in the road, take it.

It's like deja-vu all over again.

I'm not going to buy my kids an encyclopedia.  Let them walk to school like I did.

Always go to other people's funerals, otherwise they won't come to yours.

Nobody goes there anymore.  It's too crowded.

It ain't the heat, it's the humility.

He hits from both sides of the plate. He's amphibious.

I usually take a two-hour nap from one to four.

The towels were so thick there I could hardly close my suitcase.

Slump?  I ain't in no slump. . .I just ain't hitting.  

Even Napoleon had his Watergate.

So I'm ugly.  So what?  I never saw anyone hit with his face.

Pair up in threes.

A lot of guys go, 'Hey, Yog, say a Yogi-ism.'  I tell 'em, 'I don't know any.'  They want me to make one up.  I don't make 'em up.  I don't even know when I say it. They're the truth. And it is the truth.  I don't know.









I don't mean to be funny.

But you truly are,Yogi!  
                 Without even trying.

PLAY BALL, YA'LL!

SIGNS TO MAKE YOU LAUGH

Some clever store signs make me laugh, like the lingerie shop called The Bra Patch or the aquarium store called Tanks a Lot.  They were cleverly designed to create chuckles.

However, I think these signs were not intended to make me smile, but I did!






On a California freeway: 
Fine for Littering

On the wall of a British Columbia cleaning service:
Able to Do the Worst Possible Job

In a New York jewelry store:
Genuine Faux Pearls

In a Kansas City Optometry shop:
Broken lenses duplicated here

Billboard on Florida highway:
If you can't read, we can help.

On a Lockhard, Texas gas station and minimart:
We're out of Rolaids, but we've got gas!
(OK so they MEANT to get a laugh on this one)

At the basketball court in the Gastonia, NC, YMCA:
Anyone found hanging from the rim will be suspended.

On a Rapid City store:
Give that bride a good case of worms or other fine bait.

On the door of an Ellsworth Maine restaurant:
The Indian Trading Post will be closed for Yom Kipper.

In a Grand Rapids restaurant:
Half baked chicken

In a Dayton barbershop:
During owner's vacation, a competent hairstylist will be here.

On a Jacksonville bookstore:
Rare, out of print and non-existent books

On a library in New Hampshire, honoring Robert Frost:
Frost Free Library

On the Triborough Bridge in New York:
In event of air attack, drive off bridge.

I just couldn't resist these last three!

FAR SIDE OF THE BIBLE

My all time favorite cartoonist was Gary Larson. When he retired it left a void in my comedy bank. 
              

Until now. 

I bought a box of thank you cards from our local Christian bookstore by a similar artist.  Then my brother, knowing my warped sense of humor, sent me these by the same guy.

MIDDLE-OF-THE-NIGHT FAMILY STORIES

My cousin, Waylan, is a fabulous, funny single father and recently shared this on facebook. (He's also a fantastic pianist!)
  

Waylan Goddin

Who's kid would have the nerve to text their dad at 12:30 am to come to their room....and then say, "Can you turn my ceiling fan on?" MINE would! Luckily, I have a sense of humor.

Like ·  · Share · 10 hours ago · 

We're Tippetts and humor runs in our veins.  Our grandfather, affectionately known as Papa, was reknown for his humor.

Papa loved to tease his grands, like Lloyd Jr. here.

Except for one time in the middle of the night. The family story says one of the six children called for water.  Papa stumbled through the darkness to bring a glass to the child, who had the gall to whine, "But I wanted MAMA to bring it!" Papa doused the kid with the water. Wet kid, wet bed.  The event was never discussed.   Papa couldn't remember which child it was and the guilty culprit never confessed.  Some people's sense of humor goes to sleep when they do.

Kimberly on a happier day

I may fall into that niche as I think back to our own wee hour stories.  
  

A stomach bug hit one of our girls, maybe Kimberly.  I recognized the sickly tone calling "Maaa-maaaa!"  It's a sound denoting I'm-gonna-vomit-in-about-30-seconds. I sprinted to her bedside, grabbed the trash can by her bed just as she heaved in the darkness.  I was proud that I made it in time. Proud until I heard the muffled splatter on pink carpet.  Puke sounds differently hitting metal than shag. Did you know that upchuck turns brownish pink and remains so, even when you try to clean it from carpet? Guess I held the trash can a tad to her left.



My humor waned another night when daughter #2, Katy, came to our bed feeling nauseated. She'd recently gotten braces and chose a glow-in-the-dark retainer to wear at night.  Sleeping, I vaguely heard her voice, "Mama. . .Mama. . .Mama. . ." When I opened my eyes, however, all I saw in the dark bedroom was this glowing mouth opening and closing, coming closer and closer to my bed, chanting "Mama. . .Mama. . .Mama!"  I screamed! She screamed! Doug bolted then rolled over and went back to sleep. I'm no ghost buster so it took a recovery period before I could hold my other sick daughter's head over the toilet that scary night.

Kimberly and I lovin' on each other, just before Kent's birth.  I was tempted to crop
this shot to exclude the top of my hairdo. . .but reality then was all about BIG HAIR!

I once told Kimberly to "Kiss my foot!"  As a toddler, she didn't know the southern expression and took it literally.  She kissed my toe.  It works in reverse too. The kiss of a parent seems to have healing power.  But it may be more potent before midnight! 

When our son, Kent's kids hurt their toes, he calls for a Toe Truck!  Humor heals too.

OSCAR, OSCAR, OSCAR

It's that time of year again.  For women in March, "Yay!  The Oscars!"  For men it's January, "Yay!  The Superbowl!"
                                                                                                                                                         

                                                                                                                                                               

No, not that Oscar. I may not
follow the sports arena but I confess to watching the Academy Awards. Sometimes I wonder why.  With all the glitz, glamour and extravagance on display, I often see the emptiness and futility.  Many of the so-called beautiful people live daily in very ugly lives.  Smiles for the camera meld into despair.  

This blog's focus is not to bash Hollywood.  That's too easy a target.  Instead I share another camera angle on my own life, far from that one.

*designer world--I'm blessed to live in a world fashioned by the Designer and original Creator.  Lord, give me eyes to behold the true beauty of nature surrounding me.

*red carpet--I walk!  That in itself is a gift I take for granted.  Lord, give me an appreciation for the wood, grass, carpet, even mud puddles beneath my feet.  Teach me to walk in beauty.

*footprints--I leave none at Grauman's Chinese Theater but my heritage gives me clear footprints to follow; godly parents taught me the Way.  Lord, as you walk with me, may my footprints in the sand leave clear tracts for others to follow You.

*hall of fame--My name may never be in lights but it's written in the Lamb's Book of Life in the eternal red ink Christ paid to put it there. Remind me, Lord, that this world is not my home but my name is written in Your hand permanently.  You know my name.

*awards and recognition--Strange but I just realized I've never had a single trophy.  I'm neither a jock nor a star. Sometimes I can be a bit of a diva but in my circles no honors are given for that.  Lord, You know me from the womb to the grave, the good and evil from within me, the very number of hairs on my head.   The greatest Being (You, God) paid the highest price (Jesus' death) for me.  Me!  I'm recognized and awarded eternity with You.  Keep my focus there on the mansion You're preparing specified for me!

Our back yard abounds with the fattest red cardinals I've ever seen. Doug feeds them daily.  

"Doug, you spoil the birds, you know!" I tease him.

"I know.  I'm their welfare system."

"Yeah, for sure.  Word's out in the bird world!"

He even catches the pesky squirrels raiding their seed.  He carries them away to a rural place.

But one day a male cardinal got caught in squirrel cage. The trap door slammed shut on him. Squawking and pecking merely exhausted our feathered friend. When Doug spotted him, he opened the door to release the frightened creature.

"He started pecking my hand instead of flying away." 

Sometimes free people have to be told they're free. Sometimes blessed people have to be reminded they're blessed.  It all depends on what channel you focus on.

Don't the trees seem nice and full?