Brand Loyalty

What brands do you associate with?

I have no interest in fashion or brands. I have no designer purses, shoes, or clothes. In fact, my wardrobe has one major requirement. Items must be made of cotton and have pockets, since I can’t be bothered with a purse.

However, on reflection , I realize I am loyal to one brand. I prefer Gold Medal Self-Rising Flour. It gives consistent results. Does that count?

Three of the Deadlies

Tragically, three pastors and their wives were killed in a crash on the way home from a conference.  They found themselves standing before Saint Peter.  Saint Peter addressed the first pastor as he looked in his book.

“Well, I see here you lived a pretty good life.  You worked hard for your church.  You were faithful, but there’s one thing I need to look into further.  Your love of money got in your way.  In fact, you loved money so much you even married a woman named Penny.  Just have a seat over there while I do a little more checking.”

The second pastor came forward.  Saint Peter addressed him.  “You were a faithful pastor.  You served well except for one flaw.  Your love of alcohol caused you some problems.  You loved alcohol so much, you even married a woman named Sherry.  Have a seat over there while I do some balancing.”

The third pastor turned to his wife.  “Come on Fanny.  There’s no use in us even getting in line.”

Top Doctor Jokes That Will Leave You in Stitches

“Doctor, doctor!  Come quick. Little Johnny just swallowed a razor-blade.”
“Don’t panic, I’m coming immediately. Have you done anything yet?”
“Yea, I shaved with the electric razor.”

“Doctor, doctor, You’ve got to help me!  I just can’t stop my hands from shaking!”
“Uh oh!  Do you drink a lot?”
“I try, but I spill most of it!”

“Doctor, doctor, will I be able to play the violin after the operation?”
“Yes, of course…”
“Great! I never could before!”

A man speaks frantically into the phone, “My wife is pregnant, and her contractions are five minutes apart!”
“Calm down.  Is this her first child?” the doctor queries.
“No, you idiot!” the man shouts. “This is her husband!”

Growing Up in a Communal Home: Memories from Houston Part 2

That Barbie led a charmed life, raised by an adoring Mother who felt discipline damaged tiny psyches. While a screaming Barbie was gently extracted from a situation, she’d be pounding Cookie with her precious little fists. Billy and I stared wide-eyed, totally unaware a kid could attack a parent. I don’t believe Mother felt the least concern for the state of my psyche. She’d have warmed by britches in a heartbeat. We’d even get “the look” when Barbie threw a tantrum, tacitly reminding what would happen should we try such a thing.

One stormy afternoon, a thunderstorm raged. We’d been playing the skate/wading pool game on the front porch when we were forced indoors by the lightning. Barbie threw a fit, culminating in an asthma attack. Cookie dragged her off for medication and rest. While she screamed herself to sleep, Billy and I availed ourselves of her treasures. We set our loot up in the half stair closet, playing there all afternoon. It was magnificent having a ready-made hideout.

I believe I had my first encounter with fire ants at that house. I followed Grandma to the backyard, where she was doing some gardening. I saw a huge mound of dirt which I did not recognize as an anthill. Fascinated, I jumped into it. Of course, I was instantly beset by enraged ants. At my screams, Grandma snatched my clothes off and sprayed me down with the water hose. A fast learner, I’ve never been tempted to jump in another ant bed.

To be continued

More?

What could you do more of?

Where do I start? The very next thing I must do more of is gardening. My flower beds are weedy and overgrown, screaming for attention. Morning glories have totally taken over one bed. My flagstone patio needs grooming. It’s shameful how I’ve neglected it. This list could go on and on. It have promised myself and my flowers they’ll get the care they need as soon as the cooler days of fall arrive.

Real Estate Jokes

1.  A Great Spin on a Classic Joke

Q: How many estate agents does it take to change a lightbulb?

A: None! “The lightbulb is in excellent working order and comprised of a beautiful retro teardrop illuminator, offering original glass and metal features and located very centrally in the middle of the room. Local amenities abound and the property is serviced by a newly refurbished power cord connecting it to the ceiling. Nearby is a tasteful power switch to enable the purchaser to switch it on and off. Leasehold with share of power supply with lovingly improved wattage by the current owners. Would suit a professional couple or family looking for more light.”

2.  A Dirty Little Real Estate Joke

What’s the difference between syphilis and medical office space? You can get rid of syphilis.

3. The Texan Ranchers

Two Texans were sitting at a bar having a drink. The first one says, “My spread is so big that it extends to the horizon”. 

To that, the second one says, “Well, my spread is so big that if I get in my car in the morning and drive all day, all night and most of the next day, I still don’t reach the end”. 

At that point, the first one looks at him and says, “Yeah, that’s what you get for driving a Kia”.

4. What a Catch

I’m getting married to a luxury realtor tomorrow. He’s so dreamy. Check out the diamond engagement ring he sold me.

5.  Take Me To Your Contractor

What do great affordable contractors have in common with UFOs? You always hear stories about them, but no one you know has actually seen one.

6. This Lawyer Must Be Amish

A lawyer who had 12 children was in a tight bind because his rental agreement was coming to an end, and he was looking for a new home. He could not easily find one because no one wanted a tenant who had 12 children who would most likely destroy the house.

Since he was a lawyer, he could not easily lie about his family situation. So on the day a new real estate agent came to meet up with him, he told his 11 children and his wife to go to the cemetery.

During the interview, the real estate agent asked, “How many children do you have?”

He answered truthfully, “Twelve.”

Seeing he only had one beside him, the agent curiously asked,“Where are the rest, then?”

The lawyer answered with a sad look, “They’re in the cemetery with their mother.”

And that’s how his agreement was signed, and he was able to rent a new home without lying.

7. ZZZZZZZZ

What does an appraiser’s wife say if she can’t sleep? “Honey, tell me about your day at work.”

8. The Head Hunters

“I need a raise in my commission,” the real estate agent said to his manager. 

“There are three other companies after me.” 

“Is that so?” asked the manager. “What other companies are after you?” 

“The electric company, the telephone company, and the gas company.”

9. The Real Estate Planning Officer Joke

Q: How many planning officers does it take to screw in a lightbulb?

A: Six! Four to write an extensive study recommending a three-way 100/200/250 watt lightbulb, one to write a newspaper press release praising the study, and one to put in a 10 watt bulb instead.

Jolly Funeral Policy

Connie and Marilyn's Toddler PicturesAgents selling funeral policies were a fixture in the rural South.  Our budget was too tight for such luxuries, so Mother tried hard to keep us alive.  Myrtle Harper sold policies for Jolly Funeral Home and Watkins products.  She was a nosy do-gooder who carried sunshine from house to house, dispensing information about people’s financial situations

Betty Jones was three months behind on her six policies but thought she might be able to get the money from her mama, now that her daddy had drunk himself to death and Mama wasn’t stretched quite so tight. She shared health information. It’s a good thing, Bonnie Mercer bought that nice policy on her new baby.  She might need it if the baby didn’t start looking better.

She shared all kinds of social matters. Bertha Willis had another black eye Another tidbit: No wonder Phil Parker ran around with everything in a skirt.  Lucy kept a filthy house and her cooking wasn’t fit for the hogs.”

Even though Mother had repeatedly refused to purchase funeral policies,  Mother occasionally bought Watkins Vanilla or Anti-Pain Oil for her headaches, so Myrtle kept optimistically coming by every time she was in the neighborhood.  She inspected each new baby hopefully to see if it might look puny enough to tempt Mother into buying a new policy.  When Connie and Marilyn were toddlers, they sat playing in the shade of a huge oak tree as Mother and Myrtle drank tea. Myrtle launched her latest insurance campaign.  “Just look at those two little gals playing there.  If you bought a policy for them right now, I could get them both a four hundred policy for just a dollar a month.  If you wait till they’re thirteen, it would cost you at least a thousand dollars to bury them.”

Mother studied her babies thoughtfully.  “Well, I guess we’d better bury them now.  I wouldn’t want to miss out on a good deal.” Myrtle never even knew she was being strung along.

Growing Up in a Communal Home: Memories from Houston

Before I started school, my grandparents lived communally on the ground floor of a formerly grand old house in Houston. Clearly the growing city was encroaching on the fading beauty.Cookie, Uncle Riley, and Cousin Barbie lived there too. It was on a busy street with nonstop traffic. The noise of constant traffic and honking horns intruded constantly. The air was never free of exhaust. A large grocery store stood catty-cornered from them and a funeral home directly across. An eight-foot wide sidewalk ran from the front steps to the sidewalk fronting the street. A stately porch ran around three sides of the house. Most intriguing of all, what appeared to be a closet enclosed four steps of a staircase ascending to nowhere. An old lady rented the second-floor apartment complete with an identical porch.

I desperately wanted to explore the second floor but Grandma shut me down. “We can’t go up there. Another family lives there.” Everyone I knew lived in a regular house. I’d never seen an apartment or house divided into apartments.

Grandma was overprotective. I was old enough to be trusted not to wander out in the street but she was convinced a passerby would snatch me off the sidewalk. Also, she was worried a speeding car would plow up onto the sidewalk. She stood guard nearby scowling with her trusty broom just in case a foolhardy kidnapper looked tempted. We were free to play on the enormous wrap around porch.

Cousin Barbie didn’t have to share. She screamed if we approached her inflatable wading pool set up in the porch. She kept her skates close by, intending to keep them safe from me and my brother. That was managed easily enough. While one of us skated, the other ran in and out of the pool. We kept her running and screaming till Cookie took her in for fear of an asthma attack. That worked for us.

One morning as Grandma worked in her flower beds, I was allowed to play on the sidewalk a few feet away. To my great surprise, the lady living on the second floor dashed her bucket of mop water onto my head. I thought it a delightful surprise for a hot day! Grandma was enraged. She tore into her upstairs neighbor while Mother whisked me in to wash off the mop water.

To be continued

Best advice

What’s the best piece of advice you’ve ever received?

The best advice I ever heard was from a guy Bud knew who worked in the oilfield.

“Only fools f…..ks with snakes!”

Can’t argue with that!