only natural that, after five kids, the initial hyper-protectiveness of motherhood does tend to fade. My friend and his mother were chatting about how her mothering techniques evolved over the years from the first child to the fifth. ''Oh, I definitely mellowed, '' she admitted. ''For example, when your oldest sister coughed, I'd panic and call the ambulance. But when your youngest broth
from the car park into my office in Los Angeles, I was approached by a homeless man. ''Excuse me, can you spare some change?'' he asked.In a hurry but not wanting to be rude, I pretended I didn't understand him. ''No hablo ingl?s, '' I replied.''Oh, that's just great, '' the guy muttered as he turned to walk away. ''Now you even have to be bilingual to beg.''
I was a new patient, I had to fill out an information form for the doctor's files. The nurse reading it over noticed my unusual name. ''How do you pronounce it?'' she asked.''Na-le-Y-ko, '' I said, proud of my Ukranian heritage.''That sounds nice, '' she said, smiling.''Yes, it is melodious, '' I agreed.''So, '' she asked sweetly, ''what part of Melodia is your family from?''
in a packed cinema, two ladies in front of me were talking loudly, preventing me from hearing the soundtrack properly. Tapping one lady on the shoulder, I said, ''Excuse me, I can't hear!'' Her reply was, ''I should think not. This is a private conversation.''
was crawling at a snail's pace. Of course, I wasn't alone. Stuck in the lane next to me was a package delivery truck. As it slowly crept along, I had plenty of time to read the name of the company printed on the side. Appropriately, it read: S-Cargo.
in seminary, I taught the Old Testament to prisoners. One evening as I waited for a guard to appear and check me in, I noticed the fellow ahead of me fidgeting and constantly checking his watch. Take a chill pill, I thought.Finally the guard came. The man scribbled his name in the visitors' book and rushed inside. ''What does that guy teach?'' I asked the guard.''Serenity Through Meditati
and a half agonising hours at the Department of Motor Vehicles put me in a foul mood. I was still in a funk when I stopped at a store to buy a baseball bat for my son. ''Cash or charge?'' the young female clerk asked. ''Cash, '' I snapped. Then I quickly apologised. ''I'm sorry. I just spent half the day in line at the DMV.'' ''Would you like me to wrap the bat, '' she chirped, ''or do you