Tui xin một cái topic nhé....

HOW SWEET THE SOUND
by Ron Gold
My name is Frank Thomas Pulver.
I''m an ordained Christian minister. My wife, Clara, and I manage a
waterfront chapel called The Mission of Friends. We''re located on what
most people call "Skid Row".
I also work within the community, locating and amassing food, used
clothing, bedding and furniture. At the mission I counsel homeless men and
deliver a sermon each day.
Clara, who cooks and does laundry, also plays piano in our dining
room/chapel. Together we minister to the basic needs of misdirected souls
who find shelter at our mission.
As I said, The Mission of Friends isn''t really a church -- just a
storefront with an almost invisible small sign and the inescapable aroma of
good home cooking. We''ve been here 10 years so the men who need us know
us. And we get good daily turnouts.
The dining room has three long tables and some 50 hard back bridge
chairs. We serve good food -- family style -- on tables dressed with homey
paper tablecloths. I personally welcome each visitor with a smile and a
hearty handshake. I invite them to sit, relax and enjoy our hospitality.
I used to start with a sermon and then say grace but I soon realized that
the word of God was a distant second to a good meal -- often the only food
these homeless men have eaten all day.
After my post-dinner sermon, I invite the men to the basement where
they can shower and get a fresh change of donated clothing.
Clara plays popular old time tunes and hymns on the out-of-tune
upright piano, keeping time by moving her soft brown curls while she and
many guests sing along.
I remember one magical evening last March when two neatly dressed men
in their seventies entered our mission.
"My name is Joey," the smaller balding man said. "This is my pal,
Edgar. We''re both retired Merchant Mariners. We live on our pensions and
we''ve come to spend time with you and these men. We hope to help you lead
them to the good Christian life."
Suddenly there was a small commotion as Edgar reached over and stole a
chicken leg from one man''s plate.
He then used his left hand to scoop mashed potatoes from a large
serving bowl. Then he hoisted a ceramic pitcher and started gulping milk.
He smiled, expelled a loud belch and then a thunderous bass laugh.
Joey and I went to make peace, while Clara played more upbeat music.
Joey, who separated his laughing friend from irate diners, said,
"Please excuse Edgar. He''s sick. He cannot remember where he is or how to
act. I help him dress and shower. I even comb his hair and shave him. He
spends a lot of time watching television but doesn''t understand whether
he''s watching news or a comedy. He loves cartoons. They make him laugh."
Joey told me, "I believe Edgar can help you in your ministry. This
God-fearing wild man, who eats with his fingers and burps loudly, is a
former choirboy and what he remembers are the hymns he sang as a young boy.
We visit different missions and Edgar sings and people are moved. Will
you allow him to sing here tonight?"
I agreed.
Joey replaced Clara at the piano and began playing some blues chords
in stride rhythm. The piano somehow tuned itself!
Edgar stood alongside the piano, placing one massive hand atop the
upright and began singing.
"Amazing Grace," he sang in a pure boy soprano register. "How sweet
the sound that saved a wretch like me! Long was lost, but now am found,
was blind, but now I see."
All eyes stared at the large man with the salt-and-pepper pony tail
and the naturally sweet boy soprano voice.
"''Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, And grace my fears
relieved; How precious did that grace appear, The hour I first believed."
The mission became silent except for the piano, the giant man with the
schoolboy voice, and the sound of sobbing guests.
The men at the long tables put down their utensils and stared at the
massive man with the boyish voice that overpowered the piano.
"Yea, Lord," one man cried. "Hallelujah!" another yelled. "You tell
it, man!" a black man added.
"Through many dangers, toils and snares, I have already come; The
grace hath brought me safe thus far, And grace will lead me home."
Joey brought the hymn to an end. And I began speaking about home,
love and a grace-filled giant with a graying pony tail and a young boy''s
pure voice.
And everyone listened.
I turned to thank Joey and Edgar but they had left during my sermon.
On the piano keyboard was an envelope with the words, "The Mission of
Friends." Inside was a hundred-dollar bill.
By the way, the piano remains in perfect tune.
-- Ron Gold <outthinkresumes @ aol.com>
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

THE FUNNY THINGS KIDS SAY
Four-year old Bailey''s mom and dad had been discussing names for the
new baby. They agreed that if it were a girl, the name would be Kendall.
Later, Bailey asked her mom if their new baby would have fire on its head.
"What are you talking about?" asked Bailey''s mother. Bailey replied, "If
she''s a candle (Kendall), won''t she have fire on her head?" -- Bailey''s
great-Aunt Agga (Margaret) of Garner, North Carolina
Bailey was enjoying a cup of hot chocolate when she spotted something
floating in her cup. "Aunt Mel," Bailey asked, "what''s floating in my hot
chocolate?" Aunt Mel replied, "It''s marshmallows." Bailey asked, "Can I
eat ''em?" Aunt Mel said, "Sure!" Bailey then asked, "How do I catch ''em?"
Madison, 3, is expecting a new brother or sister. Aunt Jennifer asked,
"Madison, are you happy to be a big sister?" Madison replied, with a deep
sigh and an eye roll to boot, "Aunt Jenn... The baby is still in Mommy''s
belly." Then Aunt Jennifer asked, "Do you want a little boy or a little
girl?" Madison replied, "Mommy''s not having a boy or a girl, she''s having
a baby." -- Jennifer DeFoy (aunt of Madison) of Brighton, Michigan
Ruby''s sister-in-law died. Upon entering the funeral home, Ruby
noticed that her sister-in-law''s hair was not done in the style she had
been wearing before she died. A former hairstylist, Ruby asked the funeral
director for a curling iron. He willingly brought one out and plugged it
in. After a brief warm-up period, Ruby proceeded to change the style with
the deceased''s five grandchildren looking on. The nearest grandchild,
Ashley, said, "At least you don''t have to worry about burning Grandma!" --
Ruby McDaniel of Marion, Illinois
Sammy, 5, came home from kindergarten and with great excitement told
his parents, "They have a caterpillar in the aquarium and it started to
build a raccoon (cocoon)!" -- Frank Burkhard (grandfather of Sammy) of
Reading, Pennsylvania
Joshua, 6, was singing the "Twelve Days of Christmas." When he got to
the first chorus, he sang, "and a party in a pear tree!" -- Sholee (mother
of Joshua Gilbert) of Arizona
Shirley, an elementary school librarian, was reading Hanukkah stories
to all the children. Then they would play the Dreidel game, a tra***ional
game played at Hanukkah. All the children place a token in the "pot," then
spin the Dreidel. The symbol the top shows when it lands determines
whether the child receives anything from the "pot." Shirley carefully
explained what each symbol meant, stressing that the symbol for "Gimmel"
was the best because it means you get everything from the "pot." She
divided the children into small groups to play. As Shirley wandered among
the children, one little girl tugged her sleeve and said excitedly, "I got
e-mail (Gimmel), Mrs. Jones! I got e-mail!" -- Shirley Jones of St.
Louis, Missouri
As a teacher, Tammy often grows weary of having to repeat herself to
students who aren''t paying attention. One of her favorite sayings during
frustrating moments is, "I am not a broken record!" On one occasion Tammy
was teasing with a student who had just returned to the classroom and asked
what she was supposed to be doing. Bria, joining in on the fun, intervened
on Tammy''s behalf by saying, "Ms. Dennis has already given us directions,
and she''s not a tape-recorder!" -- Tammy Dennis (5th grade teacher) of
Memphis, Tennessee
Many years ago, prior to Christmas, Jane, 2, was told to draw the name
of the person to whom she would give a gift at Sunday School. She complied
but when the teacher went to pin the name on her dress so she wouldn''t lose
it, Jane ran out of church in tears stating, "I don''t want another name. I
like my name." -- Judy Bab**** (sister of Jane) of Anoka, Minnesota
When Christopher was 2 his Uncle Mike dressed up like Santa Claus for
the kids. Christopher was scared and said, with a tremble in his voice,
"You got my Uncle Mike''s shoes on!" -- submitted by Traci Walker, as told
to her by the mother of Christopher (who is now 14) of Tennessee
In Washington State there are quite a few mustard fields. Little
Kylie was going to lunch with her grandmother, Terri. As they were driving
along, Kylie looked out the window and asked what the yellow flowers were
called. Terri answered, "Mustard." A little while later Kylie asked what
the red flowers were called. Terri said she hadn''t seen them. "They must
be called catsup," Kylie replied. -- Joan Bowen (great-grandmother of
Kylie) of Randle, Washington
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

FOREVER PROUD
by Jeannie Paslawsky
It''s a day that will be forever seared into my mind and heart.
When I arrived at my mom''s, she told me she had "bad, bad news". Then
she began to cry.
She told me that she didn''t want to make me wait, but didn''t want to
upset me before driving there.
"It''s our Andrew. He was killed in Iraq yesterday."
The rest of the words, if there were any, are not something I can
recall. I shook with fear, disbelief and severe grief. I cried and cried.
This young, caring and brave young man, wanted nothing more than to
serve our country ever since he carried his fatigue-clad teddy bear.
I am still shaking my head in disbelief, crying stinging tears inside
and out. It''s just too surreal. This doesn''t really happen, does it? He
was finally himself -- our servant in the U.S. Army -- a paratrooper (like
his Daddy and Uncle Eddie, two of his heroes) with the famed and proud 82nd
Airborne.
I am in shock. We all are. It''s a horrible tragedy, and so quickly
and very terribly final.
Andrew was the nicest little boy. I babysat him and his sister Liz
when they lived nearby. I changed his diapers. Now, there he was --
larger than life the last time I saw him home on leave. His hug was (as
always) enormous and overflowing with love. "AJ" was a very deeply loving
person. He was so happy to be home again telling us all about his buddies
and the camp and we even traded stories about just how HOT Texas really is
in the summertime.
There is nothing in life that can prepare you for something so
horrible. As I told my sis tonight, I had to listen to her cry so deeply
and hurt so horribly I could only sit here, on the other end of the phone,
and listen saying, "I know, I know."
Sissy was his Godmother. Her world was shattered. She never wept
like this, even when she had lost other family members, or lost everything
she owned in a fire. He held a part of her heart that was his alone.
Somehow though, because he was Andrew, it was like that for us all.
All I feel like doing is crying and yet I forced my exhausted self to
work some, to make a site visit and to try to make life push away this
hurt, this pain. It hasn''t helped, only to delay the inevitable.
Our Andrew was such a good young man. He worked with a friend of mine
some time ago while he was trying to find his path in life which led him to
the Army. When he arrived home the first time, he had grown about a foot
taller, and was enormous in mind and body. His pride swelled, not
boastfully, but just enough to make his shoulder so square you could lay
books on them. He held his head so high and handsomely -- displaying his
beautiful and gentle smile and his warm and loving gaze. He had passed his
Sergeant''s exam, scoring a perfect 150 points.
I have his latest picture in my kitchen -- a large one -- proudly
displayed to all who come to my home.
"My cousin," I tell everyone, "He''s such a wonderful and strong guy.
What a true patriot too. He had plans to enter Special Ops training and
had been invited to pursue the Green Beret." That was his lifelong dream I
believe. Until then, he served with honor and after spending time earlier
last year in Afghanistan, he came back to North Carolina to train and pass
the Sergeant test.
I keep looking at the black and white photo mom has in her house.
Then I look away while my heart aches and I lose some breath, whisper a
Hail Mary and then I shake my head all over again.
Nothing can touch this, nothing. From what I hear, he was in a Humvee
with his troop buddies and they went into a canal. Most got out alive, but
Andrew, and the driver of the Humvee, were lost.
He died serving his country, being our Andrew -- helpful and brotherly
towards others in his company. Of this we shall forever be grateful and
proud.
-- Jeannie Paslawsky <PaslawskyJ @ aol.com>
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

THE MOST
The most destructive habit: Worry
The greatest joy: Giving
The greatest loss: Loss of self-respect
The most satisfying work: Helping others
The ugliest personality trait: Selfishness
The most endangered species: Dedicated leaders
Our greatest natural resource: Our youth
The greatest "shot in the arm": Encouragement
The greatest problem to overcome: Fear
The most effective sleeping pill: Peace of mind
The most powerful enemy of success: Excuses
The most powerful force in life: Love
The most dangerous pariah: A gossiper
The world''s most incredible computer: The brain
The worst thing to be without: Hope
The deadliest weapon: The tongue
The two most power-filled words: "I Can"
The greatest asset: Faith
The most worthless emotion: Self-pity
The most beautiful attire: SMILE!
The most prized possession: Integrity
The most powerful channel of communication: Prayer
The most contagious spirit: Enthusiasm
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

A FRIEND LIKE BEN
by Joseph Walker
Andrea isn''t a wimp, exactly.
She''s just... nervous. Cautious. Skittish. Easily frightened. And
she screams a lot.
Let''s just say that my adult daughter has the characteristics of
wimpishness without actually being one. Exactly.
She''s afraid of clowns (blame Stephen King''s "It"). She believes that
any part of her body not covered by a blanket while she sleeps will be
eaten by little green elves (I have no explanation for that one). She
won''t sleep in the big bedroom downstairs because she''s nervous about
sleeping down there alone. And to go outside -- alone -- after dark...
well, that''s unthinkable.
Which isn''t a bad thing, necessarily. Bad things can happen to
beautiful young women who are alone outside after dark, so we humor her on
that one. But sometimes it isn''t easy.
Take last night, for example.
We were all elbow deep in a family project, one that involved
brothers-in-law, uncles and cousins. It wasn''t fun, exactly, but it was as
much fun as you can have moving refrigerators. With cold pizza,
refrigerator parts and 19-month-old granddaughter Samantha all fecklessly
flying every which way, the house was less "humble abode" and more "rock
concert mosh pit."
Suddenly in the middle of all this, Andrea had to make deliveries to
several different neighbors -- and it was after dark.
She asked Jon to go with her, but he didn''t want to go. Neither did
Elizabeth. Neither did cousin Jake. I would have gone with her, but we
were at the point in the project where my expertise was going to be needed
(nobody can tear duct tape off the roll like I can). And Anita... well,
there was a CPA, a journalist and a college student tearing things apart in
her kitchen. Would YOU be willing to leave at a time like that?
Finally, Andrea put on a brave face and boldly announced that she
would make the trip around the neighborhood unaccompanied.
She looked around the room one last time, taking it all in just in
case she was abducted by little green elves wearing clown masks. Then she
heaved a heavy sigh, wrapped her jacket around her (actually, it was her
mother''s jacket, which she could get away with because her mother was busy
trying to get the duct tape out of Jon''s hair -- and honestly, I have NO
idea how it got there) and went out to face the cold, dark night -- alone.
In less time than it took us to figure out that we needed to remove
the hallway thermostat from the wall BEFORE we tried to squeeze the
refrigerator past it, Andrea was home. Smiling.
"So you made it!" I said while rubbing what I was sure was the world''s
first elbow hernia.
"Yep!" she said happily. "Ben took care of me!"
Ben is the big yellow dog who lives with one of our neighbors.
Loveable, playful and gentle as a lamb, Ben is the neighborhood mascot,
drifting from house to house to play in every game and sample every
barbecue. He goes on walks with us and patiently allows pawing and petting
from our granddaughters, all of whom could say "Ben" before they could say
"Poppa."
"It was like he could tell I was nervous," Andrea said. "He''d go up
to each door before me and then look back as if to say, ''It''s OK''. As long
as Ben was there I knew I was fine."
Now, I can''t say that I really understand that. I mean, I like Ben
and everything, but I''ve never really been a pet person. But millions of
people are, and each one of them has a story like that. And the way I see
it, there must be something to it if that big yellow dog could give Andrea
all the courage she needed to face the cold, dark night.
Clowns and little green elves notwithstanding.
-- Joseph Walker <ValueSpeak @ msn.com>
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

THE FUNNY THINGS KIDS SAY
JoAnne''s husband (Mr. Fix-It) recently passed away. Daddy had told
Brian, 7, that some day he might have to be the "man of the house." Well,
last week Brian noticed that a piece had come off the dishwasher. He said,
just before leaving for a friend''s house, "Ya know, Mom, someday when I get
the time, I will fix that for you! Don''t you worry!" -- JoAnne Johnson of
Chews Landing, New Jersey
Last week Vivian asked her son Abdoulaye, 5, what he knew about Martin
Luther King. He said, "OOOOh Mommy, he was so sad as child. When he got
bigger he told all the white people that they had to share the water
fountain!" -- Vivian Wilson of Chicago
Tommy, 3, was in a restaurant. When his dinner arrived with a sprig
of parsley on it he said in a not-so-quiet voice, "Look, Mommy, they cooked
the flowers!" -- M. Watts (mother of Tommy) of Texas
After sleeping in all summer, it was hard for Zack to wake up early
for second grade. During the second week of school he was having a
particularly hard time. One morning Zack''s father asked "Zack, are you
tired?" Without opening his eyes, Zack simply nodded. So his father
continued, "Zack, do you think you need some more sleep?" Again, Zack
nodded and said "Uh-huh." Thinking this might be a good time to talk about
going to bed earlier, his dad asked, "Zack, do you know where you could get
some more sleep?" Zack didn''t move, didn''t open his eyes, he just said
"Yeah, Dad, www.tired.stretch.com!" -- Joella (mother of Zack) of
Minnesota who says, "If only there were such a site!"
While Bill was at the gas station with his son Jack, 4, Bill took the
opportunity to review emergency procedures. He quizzed Jack on 911, etc.
Then he asked Jack what kind of truck they should send if there was a fire
at their house. Jack replied, "A fire truck." His father continued, "And
if Mommy or Daddy were really sick... what would you tell the 911 operator?
What kind of truck should they send?" Jack''s response, "A dump truck!"
-- Amy Burgoyne (mother of Jack and twins Will and Anna) of Richmond,
Virginia
Seth, 4, wanted to be "Star of the Week" at his preschool. But, he
found out he hadn''t been chosen yet because he talks too much. Seth''s mom
discussed the need for him not to talk so much and he assured her that he
would lock his mouth with an imaginary key. The next day his mother picked
him up and found he hadn''t been picked for "Star of the Week." She assumed
it was because he was unable to control his talking. But Seth explained,
"I did lock my mouth shut, Mommy. I just forgot to be good!" -- Melissa
Heiny (mother of Seth) of Columbus, Indiana
Ruth adopted their son at age 3 and their daughter at age 4. The kids
were jockeying for their position in the family. Each Wednesday they would
go to a pancake restaurant for all you can eat pancakes. The first time
they went the waitress asked, "Do you want maple or boysenberry syrup?"
Ruth''s daughter replied, "Don''t you have any girls-enberry syrup?" -- Ruth
Snyder of Deltona, Florida
Marlena was playing restaurant with her grandchildren. Her 2-year-old
grandson asked if she would like some soup. "What kind do you have?"
Marlena asked. He thought for a moment and then replied, "Uh wet?" --
Marlena of Puyallup, Washington
Sean, 4, wanted to play Scrabble. His grandmother told him he had to
be able to spell. He said, "I know how to spell." So they started
playing. Barbara put out a word on the board. Then he put the letters "T
F S E S". Barbara told him that was not a word. Sean asked her to tell
him what it said. She said, "TEFSIS." Sean replied, "No Gammie, it''s
TEXAS!" -- Barbara Gocus of Clackamas, Oregon
Michaiah, 4, was in a large discount store with her mother. As they
neared the garden center, Michaiah asked in a very loud voice, "Mommy, is
this where we can get the baby brother seed for Daddy to plant inside of
you?" -- Marlene (aunt of Michaiah) of Kansas
Kyle, 6, was trying to play with his remote controlled car in the
house. He kept rolling it into the furniture then had to pull it out with
his hands to make it go again. Thinking she could help, his mother asked
for the remote to figure out how to back it out from under the coffee
table. She tried pushing all of the buttons to no avail. Exasperated she
said, "Kyle, what makes this thing go?" He looked at her like she was
crazy and taking the remote out of her hands said, "Batteries Mom!" --
Christal Bricker (mother of Kyle) of Colorado Springs, Colorado
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

SUBURBAN SENSITIVITY
by Merry Shelburne
At first I thought it was a dog lying under the car. It was the
color of a yellow lab. Then it moved, and I saw it was not a dog at all.
Developing sensitivity toward the plight of suburban wildlife has been
a slow process for me, punctuated by great leaps forward in my "education."
This was one such occasion.
As I drove to work, I came upon several cars pulled over to the side
of the road and three women standing in the street. What appeared to be a
large dog lay in front of the rear tires under one of the vehicles.
I stopped to help. As I started walking back up the street, one of
the women said, "She hit a deer."
A deer? A DEER? The last time I was this close to a deer was in
Yosemite. I was three years old, and I fed it an Oreo cookie. No, I was
sure this was a dog. I approached the animal, and when I was about 10 feet
away it began to move.
Long legs appeared from under the car, then a head with little antler
buds. I stopped in shock.
Another woman said the Sheriff was on his way.
The deer twisted out from under the car and began to drag himself into
the middle of the street. His rear legs weren''t working.
Horrified, I ran to his side and knelt down. I gently stroked his
head and back and spoke softly into his ear.
"It''s alright, baby," I whispered. "It''s OK."
But it wasn''t OK.
I noticed a slight skin tear on an antler bud and some blood seeping
from the side of the deer''s mouth. Otherwise he was beautiful.
Except for his eyes. There was no fear in his eyes. Just blank
acceptance.
I fought back the tears, determined not to add stress to his
environment. More vehicles stopped, including a big truck with two burly
men, who joined me in the middle of the street.
They suggested we move the deer to the side of the road because it was
blocking traffic. I glared at them, but my patient seemed to agree. He
began dragging himself painfully to the other side of the street. I will
never, never be able to erase that image from my mind. Three years later,
it still makes me cry.
One of the men told me, in more gentle tones than I expected, that the
blood coming from the deer''s mouth meant internal injuries, and that he was
dying.
I knew in my heart the man was right, but my mind desperately searched
for some method of transporting the deer to the nearby, non-profit Wildlife
Waystation sanctuary.
In a last courageous attempt to distance himself from the foreign
asphalt, the yearling moved again, dragging himself over the curb and up
into someone''s front yard, under a tree. He closed his eyes. His
breathing was shallow.
Overcome with the terrible guilt of the helpless, I continued to
tenderly stroke and soothe him, and I prayed I was bringing him some
comfort. It was all I could do.
The Sheriff finally arrived and slowly got out of his car. His
expression was blank, but perhaps the sunglasses hid pain. He adjusted his
belt, and I noticed the gun in its holster.
My deer hadn''t moved in several minutes and I couldn''t see him
breathing any more. I gave him one final caress, stood up, and walked
hurriedly to my car.
I suspected what would happen next, and I couldn''t bear to see it. I
drove away, tears trickling down my face.
Suburban sprawl has encroached on our wildlife''s natural habitat, and
we must learn to co-exist in order to preserve Mother Nature''s delicate
ecosystem.
We can''t tear down the houses, but we can prevent more from being
built. We can support the incredible work being done by sanctuaries like
the Wildlife Waystation. We can get more people involved by educating
children and the general public about the plight of our native fauna.
I have done all of those things since that day, in loving memory of
"my deer."
-- Merry Shelburne <merrykins @ earthlink.net>
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

FUN WITH POLLY ESTHER
by Darlene A. Buechel
Last weekend my daughter''s laundry came to visit.
All of you proud-but-poor college moms can relate.
You spend the week dusting and humming and conjuring up fabulous "qu"
and "z" words for the marathon Scrabble games you''ll enjoy with daughter
dearest.
You''re sure to amuse and amaze her when you plunk down tiles to spell
quaff (to drink deeply and heartily) or zebu (a domesticated African ox).
Finally, it''s 6pm on Friday and the dog is barking up a big beagle
lung as a rusted car of college kids squeals up the driveway. You wave the
other kids on their merry way and grin and extend your arms for a welcome
home hug -- but instead are buried by an avalanche of laundry bags, the
contents of which smell worse than a whole herd of the aforementioned zebu.
"Hi, mom. I''m meeting some kids at the high school football game so I
gotta change and leave in ten minutes. See you and dad at the game later,"
Danielle speaks at the speed of lightening.
"Okay. Maybe we can play Scrabble and catch up a little afterwards,"
I force a smile as the stench of "zebu bags" fills the laundry room.
"Sure, Mom. Maybe tomorrow. Could you start some laundry? It always
comes out soft and fluffy when you do it," Dani flashes her collegiate
Colgate grin.
My own smile stays cemented in place, but I think I may need to quaff
a few wine coolers to keep it there as my daughter flies out the door in a
whiff of "SO PINK" perfume, strawberry lip gloss, and spearmint gum.
Since my husband is still in the barn and son Ben, a high school
junior, is already warming up on the practice field, I and the bulging
laundry bags have the house to ourselves.
"Might as well tackle a load or three," I mutter, getting into the
football spirit.
I bravely pinch my nose with a clothespin and dump out the biggest
bulging bag. Since this lovely laundry is sweet enough to visit, I figure
I may as well be a gracious hostess.
"Why, Polly Esther -- how good to see you!" I gush at a 70ish peasant
blouse that was probably blue and white until the attack of an alien pizza.
"How''s it going Jean?" I nod at the hip-huggers sporting mud on their
frayed edges.
"Gee, I could really take a Cotton to you," I wink at a t-shirt
sporting the slogan "THE BEST MAN FOR THE JOB IS A WOMAN".
Next I turn my attention to the collection of UW-Oshkosh sweatshirts
that look smart even with their various stains of the four college food
groups: Nachos, Doritos, Cappuccino, and Ketchup.
"Care for a game of Scrabble?" I inquire. "Although I must warn you,
I have zebu and quaff in my arsenal!"
I nearly jump out of my clean, fluffy, socks when my husband Rich
sneaks up behind me.
"Who are you talking to? Is Dani home yet?"
"No, but Polly Esther and Jean have been keeping me company," I reply.
"Her roommates are here?" Rich asks in alarm.
"No," I reply, "but it''s nice her laundry paid a visit."
-- Darlene Buechel <dar @ tcei.com>
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

THE GIFTS IN MY LIFE
The gifts in my life are too numerous to count.
My husband, the kids, the bills and my house.
The food in the cupboard, the dishes stacked high.
The toys scattered everywhere, the laundry piled high.
The cars in the driveway, the jobs that we hold.
The love of our friends that never grows old.
The healthy sweet babies so happy and free.
Yes, the gifts in my life are important to me.
-- Judy Watrous <jwatrous @ markandy.com>
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

THE FUNNY THINGS KIDS SAY
Jean''s 6-year-old granddaughter told her mother, "I''m going to be a
doughnut!" Her mother asked what she was talking about because Halloween
was past. The little girl said, "You know, that Girl Scout thing." She is
going to be a Brownie! -- Jean of Waxahachie, Texas
A few years ago, at April''s cousins'' house, the boys were selling
popcorn for Boy Scouts. The eldest, Eric, came in the house and announced
to the whole family that he had gotten 25 dollars and 30 cents. Then
10-year-old Tristan piped up and said, "I have 13 dollars and no cents (no
sense)!" It took several minutes for Tristan to understand why everyone
burst out in laughter at his proud moment. -- April of Roanoke, Virginia
When their car passed the local blood bank, Ken said, "Mom, ''Blood
Bank?'' That''s a terrible name for a bank!" -- Claudell Van Hoozer (mother
of Ken) of Omaha, Nebraska
Claudell''s little brother was learning about nutrition in school. His
teacher asked him to keep a list of the meals he ate for one day.
Unfortunately, his spelling was not very good and at the end of his list he
printed: "midnight snake!"
When Donna was a nanny several years ago for two 3-year-old cousins,
she overheard this conversation:
Kaia: My Mom has brown hair.
Marissa: My Mom has blonde hair.
Kaia: My Mom has brown eyes.
Marissa: My Mom has WEASEL eyes! (She meant hazel.)
-- Donna M. Johnson of Ashby, Minnesota
Morgan Alexis, 6, has been phoning her "Mom-Mom" since she was 4.
She always ends the conversation with, "I love you, Mom-Mom. Love me
back!" -- BT Thomas (Mom-Mom) of Delaware
Misty''s grandmother, Carol, told Misty a story about when she was
born. In the hospital, a little girl asked what Misty''s parents had named
her. Misty''s grandmother replied, "Misty Lee." The little girl looked
shocked and ran out to her parents yelling, "They named the baby Mister
Lee!" -- Misty Lee Misraje of Northridge, California.
When Debbie was 4, she talked all the time. One day her father was
concentrating on what he was doing. He asked, "Debbie, why don''t you be
quiet for a while?" She replied, "No, Daddy, I can''t. I learned to talk
and I''m going to talk!" -- Nancy Stuller (grandmother of Debbie) of
Waterloo, Indiana
Here''s a story about another of Nancy''s granddaughters. Christina was
about 4 when her grandfather was asked to be Santa Claus at the small
church they attended. "Santa" came in, dressed in a red suit, carrying a
pack on his back and wearing a white beard. He "ho-ho''ed" down the aisle.
Christina stood up and said, "That''s not Santa Claus. That''s my
grandfather!"
When Darby was a kid, she would read road signs while traveling in the
family car. One early morning she said, "Dad, look -- a Presbyterian
crossing sign!" Her father replied with a laugh that it was a pedestrian
crossing! -- Darby Miller of Tallahassee, Florida
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .