Samoas Cookie Cups

Girl Scout Samoas are my very favorite cookies, and this recipe does them extreme justice!

Ingredients:

1 pkg chocolate almond bark
About 12 Vanilla Wafer cookies
1 pkg caramels, unwrapped
2 Tbsp milk
1 & 1/2 cups shredded coconut, toasted
Sea salt, for sprinkling

Directions:

1. Line a muffin tin with 12 paper liners and set aside. Meanwhile, in a large bowl, microwave the almond bark according to package directions, stirring until smooth and melted.
2. Take about a Tablespoon of chocolate and spoon it into each muffin cup. Spread it along the sides of the muffin cup, about halfway up, and along the bottom evenly. Drop a cookie in the bottom of each cup. Repeat until all cups are filled and set the remaining chocolate aside for topping.
3. Melt the caramels, milk and a dash of salt in the microwave for about a minute. Stir, then zap for another 30 seconds or so until completely melted and smooth. Stir in the toasted coconut until combined.
4. Place a heaping Tablespoon or two of the caramel coconut mixture on top of each cookie cup. Repeat until all cups are topped with the caramel coconut mixture.
5. Lastly, take the remaining chocolate and spoon it over each filled cookie cup, ensuring the chocolate coats the tops and sides of the cookie cups, covering the mixture completely. Immediately sprinkle the tops of the coated cups with sea salt, if desired.
6. Place the cups in the fridge or freezer for about 30 minutes to harden the chocolate, then bring back to room temperature before eating. These keep for about 3 days when stored airtight at room temperature.

Sincerely, Edna

There was a man who worked for the Post Office whose job was to process all the mail that had illegible addresses. One day, a letter came addressed in a shaky handwriting to God with no actual address. He thought he should open it to see what it was about. The letter read:

Dear God,

I am an 83 year old widow, living on a very small pension. Yesterday someone stole my purse. It had $100 in it, which was all the money I had until my next pension payment. Next Sunday is Easter, and I had invited two of my friends over for dinner. Without that money, I have nothing to buy food with, have no family to turn to, and you are my only hope. Can you please help me?

Sincerely,

Edna

The postal worker was touched. He showed the letter to all the other workers. Each one dug into his or her wallet and came up with a few dollars. By the time he made the rounds, he had collected $96, which they put into an envelope and sent to the woman. The rest of the day, all the workers felt a warm glow thinking of Edna and the dinner she would be able to share with her friends.

Easter came and went. A few days later, another letter came from the same old lady to God. All the workers gathered around with anticipation while the letter was opened. It read:

Dear God,

How can I ever thank you enough for getting my money back for me? Because of you, I was able to fix a glorious dinner for my friends. We had a very nice day and I told my friends of your wonderful kindness... by the way, there was $4 missing... I think it might have been stolen by one of those jerks at the post office!

Sincerely,

Edna

Hello?

Three old ladies were sitting at the dinner table discussing their problems with getting old. The first one said, "Sometimes I catch myself with a jar of mayonnaise in my hand, while standing in front of the refrigerator, and I can't remember whether I need to put it away, or start making a sandwich."

The second lady says, "Yes, sometimes I find myself on the landing of the stairs and can't remember whether I was on my way up or on my way down."

The third one says, " Well, ladies, I'm glad I don't have any of those problems, knock on wood." As she hit her knuckles on the table she looked up and said, "That must be the door... I'll get it!"

Apple Pie Shot

This is so delicious, it's almost impossible to describe... guess you'll just have to try one for yourself!

Ingredients:

1 fluid ounce vodka
1 fluid ounce apple cider
1 tablespoon whipped cream
1 pinch ground cinnamon

Directions:

In a 2 ounce shot glass, combine vodka and apple cider. Top with a dollop of whipped cream and a pinch of cinnamon.

My Dinner Date

After 21 years of marriage, my wife wanted me to take another woman out to dinner and a movie. She said, "I love you, but I know this other woman loves you too, and she would love to spend some time with you."

The other woman that my wife wanted me to visit was my MOTHER, who has been a widow for 19 years, but the demands of my work and my three children had made it possible to visit her only occasionally. That night I called to invite her to go out for dinner and a movie.

"What's wrong, are you well?" she asked. My mother is the type of woman who suspects that a late night call or a surprise invitation is a sign of bad news.

"I thought that it would be pleasant to spend some time with you," I responded. "Just the two of us."

She thought about it for a moment, and then said... "I would like that very much."

That Friday after work, as I drove over to pick her up, I was a bit nervous. When I arrived at her house, I noticed that she, too, seemed to be nervous about our date. She waited in the door with her coat on. She had curled her hair and was wearing the dress that she had worn to celebrate her last wedding anniversary. She smiled from a face that was as radiant as an angel's.

"I told my friends that I was going to go out with my son, and they were impressed," she said, as she got into the car. "They can't wait to hear about our meeting."

We went to a restaurant that, although not elegant, was very nice and cozy. My mother took my arm as if she were the First Lady. After we sat down, I had to read the menu. Her eyes could only read large print. Half way through the entries, I lifted my eyes and saw Mom sitting there staring at me. A nostalgic smile was on her lips.

"It was I who used to have to read the menu when you were small," she said.

"Then it's time that you relax and let me return the favor," I responded.

During the dinner, we had an agreeable conversation - nothing extraordinary but catching up on recent events of each other's life. We talked so much that we missed the movie.

As we arrived at her house later, she said, "I'll go out with you again, but only if you let me invite you." I agreed.

"How was your dinner date?" asked my wife when I got home.

"Very nice. Much more so than I could have imagined," I answered.

A few days later, my mother died of a massive heart attack. It happened so suddenly that I didn't have a chance to do anything for her. Some time later, I received an envelope with a copy of a restaurant receipt from the same place mother and I had dined. An attached note said: "I paid this bill in advance. I wasn't sure that I could be there; but nevertheless, I paid for two plates - one for you and the other for your wife. You will never know what that night meant for me. I love you, son."

At that moment I understood the importance of saying, in time, "I LOVE YOU."

And to give our loved ones the time they deserve. Because nothing is more important in life than family... and they shouldn't be put off until "some other time.”

Ugly

Everyone in the apartment complex I lived in knew who Ugly was. Ugly was the resident tomcat. Ugly loved three things in this world:fighting, eating garbage, and, shall we say, love. The combination of these things, combined with a life spent outside, had their effect on Ugly.

To start with, he had only one eye and where the other should have been was a gaping hole. He was also missing his ear on the same side, his left foot appeared to have been badly broken at one time, and had healed at an unnatural angle, making him look like he was always turning the corner. His tail had long ago been lost, leaving only the smallest stub, which he would constantly jerk and twitch.

Ugly would have been a dark grey tabby, striped-type, except for the sores covering his head, neck, even his shoulders with thick, yellowing scabs. Every time someone saw Ugly there was the same reaction. "That's one UGLY cat!" All the children were warned not to touch him, the adults threw rocks at him, hosed him down, squirted him when he tried to come in their homes, or shut his paws in the door when he would not leave.

Ugly always had the same reaction. If you turned the hose on him, he would stand there, getting soaked until you gave up and quit. If you threw things at him, he would curl his lanky body around feet in forgiveness. Whenever he spied children, he would come running, meowing frantically and bump his head against their hands, begging for their love. If you ever picked him up, he would immediately begin suckling on your shirt, earrings, whatever he could find.

One day Ugly shared his love with the neighbor's huskies. They did not respond kindly, and Ugly was badly mauled. From my apartment I could hear his screams, and I tried to rush to his aid. By the time I got to where he was laying, it was apparent Ugly's sad life was almost at an end.

Ugly lay in a wet circle, his back legs and lower back twisted grossly out of shape, a gaping tear in the white strip of fur that ran down his front. As I picked him up and tried to carry him home, I could hear him wheezing and gasping, and could feel him struggling. It must be hurting him terribly, I thought.

Then I felt a familiar tugging, sucking sensation on my ear. Ugly, in so much pain, suffering and obviously dying, was trying to suckle my ear. I pulled him closer to me, and he bumped the palm of my hand with his head, then he turned his one golden eye towards me, and I could hear the distinct sound of purring.

Even in the greatest pain, that ugly battled-scarred cat was asking only for a little affection, perhaps some compassion. At that moment I thought Ugly was the most beautiful, loving creature I had ever seen. Never once did he try to bite or scratch me, or even try to get away from me, or struggle in any way. Ugly just looked up at me completely trusting in me to relieve his pain.

Ugly died in my arms before I could get inside, but I sat and held him for a long time afterwards, thinking about how one scarred, deformed little stray could so alter my opinion about what it means to have true pureness of spirit, to love so totally and truly.

Ugly taught me more about giving and compassion than a thousand books, lectures, or talk show specials ever could, and for that I will always be thankful. He had been scarred on the outside, but I was scarred on the inside, and it was time for me to move on and learn to love truly and deeply. To give my total to those I cared for. Many people want to be richer, more successful, well liked, beautiful, but for me, I will always try to be like Ugly.

Hold My Beer

Dear Friends,

My wife is fond of saying that my last words on this earth will be something akin to, "Hey y'all, hold my beer and watch this!" Well, I have outdone myself once again. No doubt you will see this true story chronicled in a LifeTime movie in the near future. Here goes.

Last weekend I spied something at the pawn shop that tickled my fancy. (Note: Keep in mind that my "fancy" is easily tickled). I bought something really cool for my wife. The occasion was our 22nd anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my sweet girl. What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized Tazer gun with a clip. For those of you who are not familiar with this product, it is a less-than-lethal stun gun with two metal prongs designed to incapacitate an assailant with a shock of high-voltage, low amperage electricity while you flee to safety. The effects are supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, but allowing you adequate time to retreat to safety. You simply jab the prongs into your 250 lb. Tattooed assailant, push the button, and it will render him a slobbering, goggle-eyed, muscle-twitching, whimpering, pencil-neck geek. If you've never seen one of these things in action, then you're truly missing out - way too cool!

Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two triple-a batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing! I was so disappointed. Upon reading the directions (we don't need no stinkin' directions), I found much to my chagrin that this particular model would not create an arch between the prongs. How disappointing! I do love fire for effect. I learned that if I pushed the button, however, and pressed it against a metal surface that I'd get the blue arch of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs that I was so looking forward to. I did so. Awesome!!! Sparks, a blue arch of electricity, and a loud pop!!!

Yipeeeeee... I'm easily amused, just for your information, but I have yet to explain to my wife what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave.

Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two triple-a batteries, etc., etc. There I sat in my recliner, my cat looking on intently (trusting little soul), reading the directions (that would be me, not my cat) and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh and blood target. I must admit I thought about zapping may cat for a fraction of a second and thought better of it. She is such a sweet kitty, after all. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong? Was I wrong to think that? Seemed reasonable to me at the time...

So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, Tazer in another. The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water.

All the while I'm looking at this little device (measuring about 5" long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference, pretty cute really, and loaded with two itsy, bitsy triple-a batteries) thinking to myself, "no friggin' way!"

Friggin' way - trust me, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best. Those of you who know me well have got a pretty good idea of what followed. I'm sitting there alone, my cat looking on with her head cocked to one side as to say, "don't do it buddy," reasoning that a one-second burst from such a tiny lil' ole thing couldn't hurt all that bad (sound, rational thinking under the circumstances, wouldn't you agree?). I decided to give myself a one-second burst just for the hell of it. (Note: You know, a bad decision is like hindsight—always twenty-twenty. It is so obvious that it was a bad decision after the fact, even though it seemed so right at the time. Don't ya hate that?)

I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and HOLY CRAP!

DAaaaauuuuuuMN!!! I'm pretty sure that Jessie Ventura ran in through the front door, picked me up out of that recliner, then body slammed me on the carpet over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, soaking wet, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position. my cat was standing over me making meowing sounds I had never heard before, licking my face, undoubtedly thinking to herself, "do it again, do it again!" (Note: if you ever feel compelled to mug yourself with a Tazer, one note of caution. There is no such thing as a one-second burst when you zap yourself. You're not going to let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor. Then, if you're lucky, you won't dislodge one of the prongs 1/4" deep in your thigh like yours truly.) SON-OF-A-BITCH that hurt! A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at this point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. How did they get there??? My triceps, right thigh and both titties were still twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, as my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs. give or take an ounce or two, I'm pretty sure.

Film at eleven...

Embrace Life

A man of 92 years, short, very well-presented, who takes great care in his appearance, is moving into an old people’s home today. His wife of 70 has recently died, and he is obliged to leave his home.After waiting several hours in the retirement home lobby, he gently smiles as he is told that his room is ready.

As he slowly walks to the elevator, using his cane, I describe his small room to him, including the sheet hung at the window which serves as a curtain.

"I like it very much," he says, with the enthusiasm of an 8 year old boy who has just been given a new puppy

"Mr. Smith, you haven’t even seen the room yet, hang on a moment, we are almost there."

"That has nothing to do with it," he replies.

“Happiness is something I choose in advance. Whether or not I like the room does not depend on the furniture, or the decor – rather it depends on how I decide to see it."

"It is already decided in my mind that I like my room. It is a decision I take every morning when I wake up."

"I can choose. I can spend my day in bed enumerating all the difficulties that I have with the parts of my body that no longer work very well, or I can get up and give thanks to heaven for those parts that are still in working order. Every day is a gift, and as long as I can open my eyes, I will focus on the new day, and all the happy memories that I have built up during my life."

"Old age is like a bank account. You withdraw in later life what you have deposited along the way."

So, my advice to you is to deposit all the happiness you can in your bank account of memories.

Thank you for your part in filling my account with happy memories, which I am still continuing to fill…

Remember these simple guidelines for happiness.

1. Free your heart from hate.

2. Free your mind from worry.

3. Live simply.

4. Give more.

5. Expect less.

Burnt Toast

When I was a kid, my Mom liked to cook food and every now & then I remember she used to cook for us.

One night in particular when she had made dinner after a long hard day at work,

Mom placed a plate of bread jam and extremely burned toast in front of my dad.

I was waiting to see if anyone noticed the burnt toast.

But Dad just ate his toast and asked me how was my day at school.

I don't remember what I told him that night, but I do remember I heard Mom apologizing to dad for burning the toast.

And I'll never forget what he said: "Honey, I love burned toast."

Later that night, I went to kiss Daddy good night and I asked him if he really liked his toast burned.

He wrapped me in his arms and said, "Your momma put in a long hard day at work today and she was really tired.

And besides, A burnt toast never hurts anyone but harsh words do!"

You know, life is full of imperfect things and imperfect people

I'm not the best at hardly anything, and I forget birthdays and anniversaries just like everyone else.

What I've learned over the years, is that learning to accept each others faults and choosing to celebrate each others differences, is one of the most important keys to creating a healthy, growing, and lasting relationship.

Life is too short to wake up with regrets. Love the people who treat you right and have compassion for the ones who don't.

ENJOY LIFE NOW.

It has an expiration date.

Peanut Butter Pie Cups

I'm one of those rare breeds who doesn't particularly like peanut butter by itself, but absolutely loves it in desserts! These mini pies are incredible and a serious must-try!

Ingredients:
For the crust:16 Oreo cookies
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

For the filling:1 cup heavy cream
8 ounces cream cheese
1 cup creamy-style peanut butter
1 cup confectioner's sugar
1 14-ounce can sweetened condensed milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Directions:
1. Place the Oreo cookies into the bowl of a food processor and pulse into fine crumbs. In a small bowl, combine cookie crumbs and melted butter and stir.
2. Evenly divide the crumbs between your individual serving dishes and press into the bottoms of the dishes to form a crust layer.
2. In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment or in a large bowl with an electric mixer, beat the heavy cream until stiff peaks form. Transfer whipped cream to a small bowl and place it into the refrigerator while you prepare the rest of the filling.
3. Place cream cheese and peanut butter the mixing bowl and beat on medium speed until smooth. Reduce speed to low and gradually add in confectioners' sugar until well combined. Add in sweetened condensed milk and vanilla and beat on medium speed until mixture is creamy and smooth. Take care to scrape down the sides of the bowl as needed.
4. Stir in 1/3 of the whipped cream into the filling mixture. Use a rubber spatula to fold in the remaining whipped cream until well blended until no streaks remain.
3. Evenly pipe or spoon the filling into individual serving dishes. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 3 hours before serving. If desired, garnish with whipped cream, peanut bits, and chocolate chips.

Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Brownies

This is the yummiest brownie ever created, combing yummy cookie dough with brownies!

Ingredients:

Brownie Mix:
4 ounces unsweetened chocolate, finely chopped
1 cup salted butter, melted
2 cups light brown sugar, packed
4 large eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup mini- chocolate chips

Cookie Dough:
3/4 cup salted butter, at room temperature
3/4 cup light brown sugar, packed
3/4 cup granulated white sugar
3 Tablespoons milk
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 cups mini chocolate chips
1/2 cup semisweet chips

Directions:

1. Prepare the brownies: Preheat oven to 325 degrees F. Spray a 9x13-inch pan with nonstick spray. In a medium glass bowl, melt chocolate in the microwave in short bursts of 30 seconds; stir after each burst and remove from microwave when melted and smooth. Set aside to cool slightly. In a large mixing bowl, whisk together the butter and brown sugar. Add the eggs and vanilla extract and whisk those in too. Mix in melted chocolate. Whisk in the flour and mix just until combined (don't over-mix). Stir in the chocolate chips. Spread batter into prepared pan. Bake 25 to 35 minutes. Watch closely and remove from oven when toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Let cool completely.

2. Prepare the cookie dough: In a medium bowl, use an electric mixer to combine butter, brown sugar and white sugar. Mix in milk and vanilla. Mix in flour just until combined. Stir in chocolate chips.

3. Spread cookie dough over the cooled brownies. Refrigerate until the dough is quite firm. It's okay to speed up the process and place it in the freezer too. The firmer the dough, the easier it will be to cut into neat squares. Use a sharp knife to cut the brownies. You may need to wipe the knife off with a paper towel in between cuts since the fudgy brownies and cookie dough will tend to stick to the knife a bit. These brownies are best to serve placed inside cupcake papers and served with a fork.

4. If you'd like to add chocolate drizzle on top, melt 1/2 cup chocolate chips with 1 teaspoon of shortening in the microwave; stir until smooth. Scoop the melted chocolate into a zip baggie and snip off the corner. Squeeze the bag to drizzle the chocolate on top of each brownie. Sprinkle additional chocolate chips on top, as desired.

Give Me $20

A little old lady was walking down the street dragging two large plastic garbage bags behind her. One of the bags was ripped and every once in a while a $20 fell out onto the sidewalk.

Noticing this, a policeman stopped her, and said, “Ma’am, there are $20 bills falling out of that bag.”

“Oh, really? Darn it!” said the little old lady. “I’d better go back and see if I can find them. Thanks for telling me, Officer.

“Well, now, not so fast,” said the cop.“Where did you get all that money? You didn’t steal it, did you?”

“Oh, no, no”, said the old lady. “You see, my back yard is right next to a golf course. A lot of golfers come and pee through a knot hole in my fence, right into my flower garden. It used to really tick me off. Kills the flowers, you know. Then I thought, why not make the best of it? So, now, I stand behind the fence by the knot hole, real quiet, with my hedge clippers. Every time some guy sticks his thing through my fence, I surprise him, grab hold of it and say, ‘Okay, buddy! Give me $20, or off it comes.'"

“Well, that seems only fair,” said the cop, laughing. “Okay, good luck! Oh, by the way, what’s in the other bag?”

“Not everybody pays.”

Goodbye Daddy

A father put his 3 year old daughter to bed, told her a story and listened to her prayers which ended by saying: “God bless Mommy, God bless Daddy, God bless Grandma and goodbye Grandpa.”

The father asked, “Why did you say goodbye Grandpa?”

The little girl said, “I don’t know, Daddy, it just seemed like the thing to do.”

The next day grandpa died. The father thought it was a strange coincidence.

A few months later the father put the girl to bed and listened to her prayers which went like this: “God bless Mommy, God Bless Daddy and goodbye Grandma.” The next day the grandmother died.

“Holy Moley, thought the father, this kid is in contact with the other side.

Several weeks later when the girl was going to bed the dad heard her say: “God bless Mommy and goodbye Daddy.” He practically went into shock.

He couldn’t sleep all night and got up at the crack of dawn to go to his office. He was nervous as a cat all day, had lunch and watched the clock. He figured if he could get by until midnight he would be okay. He felt safe in the office, so instead of going home at the end of the day he stayed there, drinking coffee, looking at his watch and jumping at every sound.

Finally, midnight arrived, he breathed a sigh of relief and went home. When he got home his wife said, “I’ve never seen you work so late, what’s the matter?”

He said, “I don’t want to talk about it, I’ve just spent the worst day of my life.”

She said, “You think you had a bad day? You’ll never believe what happened to me. This morning the mailman dropped dead on our porch!”

The Surprise

Once upon a time, there lived a man who had a terrible passion for baked beans. He loved them, but they always had an embarrassing and somewhat lively reaction on him.

One day he met a girl and fell in love. When it became apparent that they would marry, he thought to himself, she'll never go through with the marriage with me carrying on like this, so he made the supreme sacrifice and gave up beans.

Shortly after that they were married.

A few months later, on the way home from work, his car broke down and since they lived in the country, he called his wife and told her that he would be late because he had to walk. On his way home, he passed a small cafe and the wonderful aroma of baked beans overwhelmed him.

Since he still had several miles to walk he figured he could walk off any ill affects before he got home. So he went in and ordered, and before leaving had 3 extra large helpings of baked beans. All the way home he putt-putted. By the time he arrived home he felt reasonably safe.

His wife met him at the door and seemed somewhat excited. She exclaimed, "Darling, I have the most wonderful surprise for you for dinner tonight!" She put a blindfold on him, and led him to his chair at the head of the table and made him promise not to peek.

At this point he was beginning to feel another one coming on. Just as his wife was about to remove the blindfold, the telephone rang. She again made him promise not to peek until she returned, and away she went to answer the phone. While she was gone, he seized the opportunity. He shifted his weight to one leg and let go. It was not only loud, but ripe as a rotten egg. He had a hard time breathing, so he felt for his napkin and fanned the air about him.

He had just started to feel better, when another urge came on. He raised his leg and RRIIIPPPP !!! It sounded like a diesel engine revving, and smelled worse. To keep from gagging, he tried fanning his arms a while, hoping the smell would dissipate. He got another urge. This was a real blue ribbon winner, the windows shook, the dishes on the table rattled and a minute later the flowers on the table were dead.

While keeping an ear tuned in on the conversation in the hallway, and keeping his promise of staying blindfolded, he carried on like this for the next ten minutes, tooting and fanning each time with his napkin. When he heard the phone farewells he neatly laid his napkin on his lap and folded his hands on top of it. Smiling contentedly, he was the picture of innocence when his wife walked in.

Apologizing for taking so long, she asked if he had peeked at the dinner table. After assuring her he had not peeked, she removed the blindfold and yelled, "SURPRISE!!!"

To his shock and horror, there were twelve dinner guests seated around the table for his surprise birthday party.

The Birthday Present

So I had a feeling she was cheating as she set off a lot of red flags. Constantly laughing and smiling when texting, saying it was just her mother when I asked. Needing to stay late every night after work. When I'd call in her co-workers said she left hours ago. When I asked her what was going on she'd laugh it off and say it was just something they did to each other at the office all the time.

The last straw to where I knew something was definitely up was when she went out "to get milk" at 11:30 at night and didn't come back until 2 in the morning. Now if there is any words of wisdom I can pass on to others in all my years of experience, it's if you think your significant other is cheating, hire a private investigator. They're good at what they do and they will get some evidence that really helps in the later divorce.

Fast track to her birthday, several months down the road. Now I know what you're thinking, why the hell did I wait months before I confronted her and did it really need to be on her birthday? The answer to the first question is I wanted as much evidence as possible to hand off to my lawyer as well as make arrangements to find a new place to live, etc. Answer to your second question is, of course it had to be on her birthday. You see after asking her what she wanted to do on her birthday this year she was rather insistent on me going out of town with my friends as she just had to work anyways and didn't want to be reminded she was aging.

So I know something is up and after finding a bottle of champagne and two glasses hidden in my closest something in me snaps. So I do what any sensible man would have done. I leave and go to my friends house pretending like I am going out of town. While there I call up her mother, father, sister and several of her friends. I tell them how I want to give her a big surprise by sneaking into her room with party streamers, kazoos and a big cake with candles. Sounds fun right? Well, boy was it!

I had everyone meet me outside our apartment at 8:30 in the morning. We all pile in the elevator (about 8 of us in total); her mother is holding the cake and I'm reminding everyone to be as quiet as they can be. I put my key in and unlock the door; we all sneak in and make our way down the hall towards the bedroom. Each holding a kazoo and her mom holding the cake grinning from ear to ear.

Well, as I throw open the door, we all yell surprise!

But, the surprise was on us and there was my wife, stark naked with her lover staring at us wide eyed. Mom drops the cake, sister screams, father begins to shout. I pretend like I'm horrified to which her friends try to push everyone out while yelling at her. My wife, excuse me, now ex-wife is sobbing and screaming how could I while the lover is desperately trying to put his pants on while running out of the place. Needless to say, this and the divorce were two of the best birthday presents ever given.

The Gift

A young man wanted to purchase a gift for his new sweetheart's birthday, and as they had not been dating very long, after careful consideration he decided a pair of gloves would strike just the right note: romantic, but not too personal.

Accompanied by his sweetheart's younger sister, he went to Nordstrom's and bought a pair of white gloves. The sister purchased a pair of panties for herself. During the wrapping the clerk mixed up the items and the sister got the gloves and the sweetheart got the panties.

Without checking the contents, the young man sealed the package and sent it to his sweetheart along with this note:

"I chose these because I noticed that you are not in the habit of wearing any when we go out in the evening. If it had not been for your sister I would have chosen the long ones with the buttons, but she wears the short ones that are easier to remove.

These are a delicate shade, but the lady I bought them from showed me the pair she had been wearing for the past three weeks and they were hardly soiled. I had her try yours on for me and she looked really smart.

I wish I was there to put them on for you the first time, as no doubt other hands will come in contact with them before I have a chance to see you again. When you take them off, remember to blow in them before putting them away as they will naturally be a little damp from wearing.

Just think how many times I will kiss them during the coming year. I hope you will wear them for me on Friday night.

All my love,

P.S. The latest style is to wear them folded down with a little fur showing."

Just Three Words

A woman was sitting at a bar enjoying an after-work cocktail with her girlfriends when an exceptionally tall, handsome, extremely sexy young man entered. He was so striking that the woman could not take her eyes away from him.

The young man noticed her overly attentive stare and walked directly toward her. Before she could offer her apologies for being so rude for staring, the young man said to her, "I'll do anything, absolutely anything, that you want me to do, no matter how kinky, for $100, on one condition."

Flabbergasted, the woman asked what the condition was.

The young man replied, "You have to tell me what you want me to do in just three words."

The woman considered his proposition for a moment, withdrew from her purse and slowly counted out five $20 bills, which she pressed into the young man's hand along with her address. She looked deeply into his eyes and slowly, meaningfully said, "Clean my house."

$5.37

"$5.37." That's what the kid behind the counter at Taco Bell said to me. I dug into my pocket and pulled out some lint and two dimes and something that used to be a Jolly Rancher. Having already handed the kid a five-spot, I started to head back out to the truck to grab some change, when the kid with the Elmo hairdo said the harshest thing anyone has ever said to me.

He said, "It's OK. I'll just give you the senior citizen discount." I turned to see who he was talking to and then heard the sound of change hitting the counter in front of me. "Only $4.68," he said cheerfully.

I stood there stupefied. I am 58, not even 60 yet. A mere child! Senior citizen? I took my burrito and walked out to the truck, wondering what was wrong with Elmo. Was he blind? As I sat in the truck, my blood began to boil. Old? Me? I'll show him, I thought. I opened the door and headed back inside. I strode to the counter, and there he was waiting with a smile. Before I could say a word, he held up something and jingled it in front of me, like I could be that easily distracted! What am I now? A toddler? "Dude! Can't get too far without your car keys, eh?"

I stared with utter disdain at the keys. I began to rationalize in my mind. "Leaving keys behind hardly makes a man elderly! It could happen to anyone!" I turned and headed back to the truck. I slipped the key into the ignition, but it wouldn't turn.

What now? I checked my keys and tried another. Still nothing. That's when I noticed the purple beads hanging from my rearview mirror. I had no purple beads hanging from my rearview mirror.

Then, a few other objects came into focus. The car seat in the back seat. Happy Meal toys spread all over the floorboard. A partially eaten doughnut on the dashboard. Faster than you can say ginkgo biloba, I flew out of the alien vehicle. Moments later I was speeding out of the parking lot, relieved to finally be leaving this nightmarish stop in my life. That is when I felt it, deep in the bowels of my stomach: hunger! My stomach growled and churned, and I reached to grab my burrito, only it was nowhere to be found.

I swung the truck around, gathered my courage, and strode back into the restaurant one final time. There Elmo stood, draped in youth and black nail polish. All I could think was, "What is the world coming to?" All I could say was, "Did I leave my food and drink in here?" At this point I was ready to ask a Boy Scout to help me back to my vehicle, and then go straight home and apply for Social Security benefits.

Elmo had no clue. I walked back out to the truck, and suddenly a young lad came up and tugged on my jeans to get my attention. He was holding up a drink and a bag. His mother explained, "I think you left this in my truck by mistake." I took the food and drink from the little boy and sheepishly apologized. He offered these kind words, "It's OK. My grandfather does stuff like this all the time." All of this is to explain how I got a ticket doing 85 in a 40. Yes, I was racing some punk kid in a Toyota Prius. And, no, I told the officer, I'm not too old to be driving this fast. As I walked in the front door, my wife met me halfway down the hall. I handed her a bag of cold food and a $300 speeding ticket. I promptly sat in my rocking chair and covered up my legs with a blankey. The good news was I had successfully found my way home.

Peanut Butter Cookie Dough Chocolate Cheesecake

Peanut Butter and Cookie Dough combined with Cheesecake? I think I just dies and went to heaven!

Crust Ingredients:

5 ounces Oreo cookies, crushed in food processor
5 Tablespoons melted butter
1/3c. sugar
pinch salt

Directions For Crust:

Combine all of the above and press into an 8×8 pan lined with nonstick foil. Bake at 350 for 8 mins. Let cool.

Cheesecake Ingredients:

7 ounces Pillsbury Peanut Butter Cookie Dough, rolled into small cookie dough rounds-keep chilled till ready to use
8 ounces room temp cream cheese
1/2c. sugar
1 egg
2T. Flour

Directions For Cheesecake:

Electric mix the cream cheese until smooth. Add sugar and blend well. Add egg and flour until combined. Very gently fold in the chilled peanut butter cookie dough rounds and pour onto the oreo crust. Bake approx 30-35 minutes until just lightly starting to brown. Cool to room temp-I speed this up in the freezer!

Milk Chocolate Glaze Ingredients:
8 Tablespoons butter
6 ounces milk chocolate
1 T. light corn syrup

Finishing Directions:
Microwave the chocolate and butter until smooth. Stir in the corn syrup. Pour on the bars and smooth with an offset spatula. Cool on the counter until the glaze is cool and then chill. Cut with a sharp knife and add a chocolate drizzle, if desired!

Who's George?

The worried housewife sprang to the telephone when it rang and listened with relief to the kindly voice in her ear. "How are you, darling?" it said. "What kind of a day are you having?"

"Oh, mother," said the housewife, breaking into bitter tears, "I've had such a bad day. The baby won't eat and the washing machine broke down. I haven't had a chance to go shopping, and besides, I've just sprained my ankle and I have to hobble around. On top of that, the house is a mess and I'm supposed to have two couples to dinner tonight."

The mother was shocked and was at once all sympathy. "Oh, darling," she said, "Sit down, relax, and close your eyes. I'll be over in half an hour. I'll do your shopping, clean up the house, and cook your dinner for you. I'll feed the baby and I'll call a repairman I know who'll be at your house to fix the washing machine promptly. Now stop crying. I'll do everything. In fact, I'll even call George at the office and tell him he ought to come home and help out for once."

"George?" said the housewife. "Who's George?"

"Why, George! Your husband! Is this 223-1374?"
"No, this is 223-1375."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I guess I have the wrong number."

There was a short pause and the housewife said, "Does this mean you're not coming over?"

So, You Think Your Job Sucks?

So you think your job sucks? Well, spare a thought for Rob. Rob is a commercial saturation diver for Global Divers in Louisiana. He performs underwater repairs on offshore drilling rigs. Below is an E-mail he sent to his sister. She then sent it to radio station 103.2 on FM dial in Ft. Wayne, Indiana, who was sponsoring a worst job experience contest. Needless to say, she won!

Hi Sue,

Just another note from your bottom-dwelling brother. Last week I had a bad day at the office. I know you've been feeling down lately at work, so I thought I would share my dilemma with you to make you realize it's not so bad after all. Before I can tell you what happened to me,I first must bore you with a few technicalities of my job. As you know, my office lies at the bottom of the sea. I wear a suit to the office. It's a wetsuit. This time of year the water is quite cool. So what we do to keep warm is this: We have a diesel powered industrial water heater. This $20,000 piece of equipment sucks the water out of the sea, and heats it to a delightful temperature. It then pumps it down to the diver through a garden hose, which is taped to the air hose. Now this sounds like a darn good plan, and I've used it several times with no complaints. What I do, when I get to the bottom and start working, is take the hose and stuff it down the back of my wet-suit. This floods my whole suit with warm water. It's like working in a Jacuzzi.

Everything was going well until all of a sudden, my butt started to itch.. So, of course, I scratched it. This only made things worse. Within a few seconds my butt started to burn. I pulled the hose out from my back, but the damage was done. In agony I realized what had happened. The hot water machine had sucked up a jellyfish and pumped it into my suit. Now, since I don't have any hair on my back, the jellyfish couldn't stick to it. However, the crack of my butt was not as fortunate. When I scratched what I thought was an itch, I was actually grinding the jellyfish into the crack of my butt. I informed the dive supervisor of my dilemma over the communicator. His instructions were unclear due to the fact that he, along with five other divers, were all laughing hysterically. Needless to say I aborted the dive. I was instructed to make three agonizing in-water decompression stops totaling thirty-five minutes before I could reach the surface to begin my chamber dry decompression. When I arrived at the surface, I was wearing nothing but my brass helmet.. As I climbed out of the water, the medic, with tears of laughter running down his face, handed me a tube of cream and told me to rub it on my butt as soon as I got in the chamber.

The cream put the fire out, but I couldn't poop for two days because my butt was swollen shut. So, next time you're having a bad day at work, think about how much worse it would be if you had a jellyfish shoved up your butt. Now repeat to yourself, "I love my job, I love my job, I love my job."

God's Perfection

In Brooklyn, New York, Chush is a school that caters to learning disabled children. Some children remain in Chush for their entire school career, while others can be mainstreamed into conventional schools.

At a Chush fund-raising dinner, the father of a Chush child delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended.

After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he cried out, "Where is the perfection in my son Shaya? Everything God does is done with perfection. But my child cannot understand things as other children do. My child cannot remember facts and figures as other children do. Where is God's perfection?"

The audience was shocked by the question, pained by the father's anguish, stilled by the piercing query.

" I believe," the father answered, "that when God brings a child like this into the world, the perfection that he seeks is in the way people react to this child."

He then told the following story about his son Shaya:

One afternoon Shaya and his father walked past a park where some boys Shaya knew were playing baseball.

Shaya asked, "Do you think they will let me play?"

Shaya's father knew that his son was not at all athletic and that most boys would not want him on their team. But Shaya's father understood that if his son was chosen to play it would give him a comfortable sense of belonging.
Shaya's father approached one of the boys in the field and asked if Shaya could play. The boy looked around for guidance from his teammates. Getting none, he took matters into his own hands and said "We are losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him up to bat in the ninth inning."

Shaya's father was ecstatic as Shaya smiled broadly. Shaya was told to put on a glove and go out to play short center field.

In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shaya's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shaya's team scored again and now with two outs and the bases loaded with the potential winning run on base, Shaya was scheduled to be up. Would the team actually let Shaya bat at this juncture and give away their chance to win the game? Surpassingly, Shaya was given the bat.

Everyone knew that it was all but impossible because Shaya didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, let alone hit with it. However as Shaya stepped up to the plate, the pitcher moved a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shaya should at least be able to make contact.

The first pitch came in and Shaya swung clumsily and missed. One of Shaya's teammates came up to Shaya and together the held the bat and faced the pitcher waiting for the next pitch. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly toward Shaya. As the pitch came in, Shaya and his teammate swung at the bat and together they hit a slow ground ball to the pitcher.

The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could easily have thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shaya would have been out and that would have ended the game. Instead, the pitcher took the ball and threw it on a high arc to right field, far beyond reach of the first baseman.

Everyone started yelling,"Shaya, run to first. Run to first." Never in his life had Shaya run to first. He scampered down the baseline wide-eyed and startled. By the time he reached first base, the right fielder had the ball. He could have thrown the ball to the second baseman who would tag out Shaya, who was still running. But the right fielder understood what the pitcher's intentions were, so he threw the ball high and far over the third baseman's head. Everyone yelled, "Run to second, run to second." Shaya ran towards second base as the runners ahead of him deliriously circled the bases towards home. As Shaya reached second base, the opposing short stop ran to him, turned him in the direction of third base and shouted, "Run to third." As Shaya rounded third, the boys from both teams ran behind him screaming, "Shaya run home."

Shaya ran home, stepped on home plate and all 18 boys lifted him on their shoulders and made him the hero, as he had just hit a "grand slam" and won the game for his team.

"That day," said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, "those 18 boys reached their level of God's perfection."

The Evolution of Teaching Math

Last week I purchased a burger at Burger King for $1.58. The counter girl took my $2—meanwhile I was digging for my change when I pulled 8 cents from my pocket and gave it to her. She stood there, holding the nickel and 3 pennies, while looking at the screen on her register. I sensed her discomfort and tried to tell her to just give me two quarters, but she called the manager for help. While he tried to explain the transaction to her, she stood there and finally cried. Why do I tell you this? Because of the evolution in teaching math since the 1950s:

1. Teaching Math In The 1950s

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is 4/5 of the price. What is his profit ?

2. Teaching Math In The 1960s

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is 4/5 of the price, or $80. What is his profit?

3. Teaching Math In The 1970s

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is $80. Did he make a profit?

4. Teaching Math In The 1980s

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is $80 and his profit is $20. Your assignment: Underline the number 20.

5. Teaching Math In The 1990s

A logger cuts down a beautiful forest because he is selfish and inconsiderate and cares nothing for the habitat of animals or the preservation of our woodlands. He does this so he can make a profit of $20.. What do you think of this way of making a living?


Topic for class participation after answering the question: How did the birds and squirrels feel as the logger cut down their homes? (There are no wrong answers; if you feel like crying, it's OK.)

Teaching Math In The 2000s
Who cares, just steal the lumber from your rich neighbor's property. He won't have a gun to stop you, and the Government says it's okay anyway because it is redistributing the wealth of the country.

Dear Taylor

When 12-year-old Taylor Smith wrote a special letter to herself last year, to be read in 10 years’ time, she didn’t know it would be opened before even a year had passed - and that it wouldn’t be her eyes reading the words.

Instead, it was opened by Taylor’s parents after she died in early January, 2014. They posted the letter to Facebook, hoping Taylor’s words would inspire others.

It has. “We’ve gotten letters from lots of parents who’ve said it’s encouraged them to love their kids and love each other,” said Taylor’s mother, Mary Ellen Smith.

The envelope was marked "confidential," and for "Taylor's eyes only."

Here's a transcript of the letter:

"Dear Taylor, How’s life? Life is pretty simple right now (10 years in your past). I know I’m late for you, but as I’m writing, this is early, so; congratulations on graduating high school! If you didn’t go back and keep trying. Get that degree! Are you (we) in college? If not, I understand. We do have pretty good reasoning, after all. Don’t forget, it’s Allana’s 11th birthday today! Sheesh, 11 already? In my time, she just turned 1! I didn’t get to go to that party though, because I was in Cranks, Kentucky for my first mission trip. I’ve only been back for 6 days! Speaking of, how’s your relationship with GOD? Have you prayed, worshipped, read the bible, or gone to serve the lord recently? If not, get up and do so NOW! I don’t care what point in our life we’re in right now, do it! He was mocked, beaten, tortured, and crucified for you! A sinless man, who never did you or any other person any wrong! Now, have you gone on any more mission trips? Have you been out of the country yet? How about on a plane? Is Doctor Who still on the air? If not, what regeneration did they end it with? You should go watch some Doctor Who! Later though, you gotta finish reading your own words of wisdom! Do you have your own place yet? If we’re in college, what are we majoring in? Right now, I wanna be a lawyer. Have you been to Dollywood recently? Right now, their newest attraction is the Wild Eagle. It’s so fun!Also I think I’m going to sell my iPad and buy an iPad mini, Don’t forget to tell your kids that we’re older than the tablet! Attached I also have a drawing of an iPad, so you can show them. Well, I think that’s all. But remember, it’s been 10 years since I wrote this. Stuff has happened, good and bad. That’s just how life works, and you have to go with it. Sincerely, Taylor Smith"

The Mommy Test

I was out walking with my 4 year old daughter. She picked up something off the ground and started to put it in her mouth. I took the item away from her and I asked her not to do that.

"Why?" my daughter asked.

"Because it's been on the ground, you don't know where it's been, it's dirty, and probably has germs" I replied.

At this point, my daughter looked at me with total admiration and asked, "Mommy, how do you know all this stuff, you are so smart."

I was thinking quickly. "All moms know this stuff. It's on the Mommy Test. You have to know it, or they don't let you be a Mommy." We walked along in silence for 2 or 3 minutes, but she was evidently pondering this new information.

"OH... I get it!" she beamed, "So if you don't pass the test you have to be the daddy."

"Exactly" I replied back with a big smile on my face.

Just A Mother

A woman named Emily, renewing her driver's license at the County Clerk's office, was asked by the woman recorder to state her occupation. She hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself. "What I mean is," explained the recorder, "do you have a job, or are you just a...?"

"Of course I have a job," snapped Emily. "I'm a mother."

"We don't list 'mother' as an occupation... 'housewife' covers it," said the recorder emphatically.

I forgot all about her story until one day I found myself in the same situation, this time at our own Town Hall. The Clerk was obviously a career woman, poised, efficient, and possessed of a high sounding title like, "Official Interrogator" or "Town Registrar."

"What is your occupation?" she probed.

What made me say it, I do not know. The words simply popped out. "I'm a Research Associate in the field of Child Development and Human Relations."

The clerk paused, ball-point pen frozen in midair, and looked up as though she had not heard right.

I repeated the title slowly, emphasizing the most significant words. Then I stared with wonder as my pronouncement was written in bold, black ink on the official questionnaire.

"Might I ask," said the clerk with new interest, "just what you do in your field?"

Coolly, without any trace of fluster in my voice, I heard myself reply, "I have a continuing program of research, in the laboratory and in the field. I'm working for my Masters, and already have four credits, (all daughters). Of course, the job is one of the most demanding in the humanities, (any mother care to disagree?) and I often work 14 hours a day. But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers and the rewards are more of a satisfaction rather than just money."

There was an increasing note of respect in the clerk's voice as she completed the form, stood up, and personally ushered me to the door. As I drove into our driveway, buoyed up by my glamorous new career, I was greeted by my lab assistants ages 13, 7, and 3. Upstairs I could hear our new experimental model, (a 6 month old baby), in the child-development program, testing out a new vocal pattern. I felt triumphant! I had scored a beat on bureaucracy! And I had gone on the official records as someone more distinguished and indispensable to mankind than "just another mother."

Motherhood... What a glorious career! Especially when there's a title on the door. Does this make grandmothers "Senior Research Associates in the field of Child Development and Human Relations" and great grandmothers Executive Senior Research Associates"? I think so!!! I also think it makes Aunts "Associate Research Assistants."

Please send this to another Mother, Grandmother, Aunt, and other friends you know! They will be delighted with their "new" position in life!

I Hope You Find Peace

A man at the San Francisco Airport noticed there was a note on an empty chair. It had “Read Me” written on it. Then, he grabbed the note and started reading it. After he finished reading, he was completely overwhelmed, because he’d never expected something like this on a normal day. It was an amazing gift and he knew he had to share this special note with all of us. It’s a little long but it will move your heart. Here it is:

Besides this letter, there was also a pendant inside.

It can be a little hard to read from the picture so here is the typed version:

"I recently left an emotionally abusive relationship.

After months of insults I wont repeat, false accusations, lies, delusions, broken mirrors, nightly battles…. I left. I know that I was being poisoned by each day that I stayed. So with a heavy heart, I left my lover of three years, knowing that I had already put it off too long. At first he begged, then he cursed, but eventually he paced his bags and faded out of my life like a bad dream.

For the first few weeks, my body seemed to reject this. For three years I had seen the world through him-colered glasses. I didn’t know who I was without him. Despite the kindness of friends and even strangers. I could not help feeling utterly alone.

But it was this sense of aloneness that set me free. Somewhere along the way, I let go. I released all of the painful memories, the names he had called me, the shards of him buried deep in my brain. I stopped believing the things he had made me think about myself. I began to see how extraordinary, breathtakingly beautiful life is. I meditated, drank too much coffee, talked to strangers, laughed at nothing. I wrote poetry and stopped to smell and photograph every flower. Once I discovered that my happiness depends only on myself, nothing could hurt me anymore.

I have found and continue to find peace. Each day I am closer to it than I was yesterday. I am a work in progress but I am full to the brim with gratitude and joy.

And so, since I have opened a new chapter in my life, I want to peacefully part with the contents of the last chapter. The end of my relationship was the catalyst for a wealth of positive changes in my life. It was a symbol, most importantly, it was an act of self-love. It was a realization that I deserved to be happy and I could choose to be. And so, in an effort to leave behind the things that do not help me grow, I am letting go of a relic from the painful past.

I wore this necklace-a gift from him-every day for over two years. To me, letting it go is a joyous declaration that I am moving forward with strength and grace and deep, lasting peace.

Please accept this gift as a reminder that we all deserve happiness. Whoever you are, and whatever pain you have faced, I hope you find peace.

Namaste,
Jamie"

Leaving an abusive relationship can be very difficult, but not as difficult as staying. If you are in an abusive relationship, I highly urge you to seek help. No one should be treated any less than the special person they are.

How To Understand Women

Millions of dollars are generated by the relationship advice industry and people are always looking for ways to improve their relationships. Love can be difficult, as it leaves countless people confused. That's why we are always looking for an easy way to understand the opposite sex.

Where does this 12 year-old boy come into it? Well, he cracked the code! He knows the key to understanding women.... this book should be stocked in the 'self-help' section of all bookstores.

Just Stay

The nurse took the tired, anxious serviceman to the bedside.

"Your son is here," she said to the old man.

She had to repeat the words several times before the patient's eyes opened.

Heavily sedated because of the pain of his heart attack, he dimly saw the young uniformed Marine standing outside the oxygen tent. He reached out his hand. The Marine wrapped his toughened fingers around the old man's limp ones, squeezing a message of love and encouragement.

The nurse brought a chair so that the Marine could sit beside the bed.. All through the night the young Marine sat there in the poorly lighted ward, holding the old man's hand and offering him words of love and strength. Occasionally, the nurse suggested that the Marine move away and rest awhile.

He refused.. Whenever the nurse came into the ward, the Marine was oblivious of her and of the night noises of the hospital - the clanking of the oxygen tank, the laughter of the night staff members exchanging greetings, the cries and moans of the other patients.

Now and then she heard him say a few gentle words. The dying man said nothing, only held tightly to his son all through the night.

Along towards dawn, the old man died. The Marine released the now lifeless hand he had been holding and went to tell the nurse. While she did what she had to do, he waited.

Finally, she returned. She started to offer words of sympathy, but the Marine interrupted her.

"Who was that man?" he asked.

The nurse was startled, "He was your father," she answered.

"No, he wasn't," the Marine replied. "I never saw him before in my life."

"Then why didn't you say something when I took you to him?"

"I knew right away there had been a mistake, but I also knew he needed his son, and his
son just wasn't here. When I realized that he was too sick to tell whether or not I was his son, knowing how much he needed me, I stayed.

I came here tonight to find a Mr. William Grey. His son was killed in Iraq today, and I was sent to inform him. May I ask what this gentleman's name was?"

The nurse with tears in her eyes answered, "Mr. William Grey."

The next time someone needs you... just be there. Just stay.

Mexican Appetizer Cups

This is a great little snack or hors d'oeuvre for your next party, as they are a huge hit every time I serve them!

Ingredients:

1 box (9 oz) frozen chopped spinach, thawed, squeezed to drain
1 can (10 oz) diced tomatoes with green chiles, undrained
1 package (8 oz) cream cheese, softened
1 cup sour cream
1/2 teaspoon taco seasoning mix (from 1-oz package)
40 to 45 nacho cheese-flavored tortilla chips
2 cans (12 oz each) refrigerated buttermilk biscuits (20 biscuits)
1 cup finely shredded Mexican cheese blend (4 oz)

Directions:

1. Heat oven to 375°F. Spray 30 mini muffin cups with no-stick cooking spray. In large bowl, mix spinach, tomatoes, cream cheese, sour cream and taco seasoning mix; set aside.
2. Place about 20 of the tortilla chips in gallon-size resealable food-storage plastic bag; seal bag. Using rolling pin, finely crush to measure 1/2 cup. Stir crushed chips into spinach mixture.
3. Separate 1 can of dough into 10 biscuits; separate each biscuit into 3 layers. Place 1 layer in each of 30 muffin cups; using floured fingers, press dough on bottom and up side of each cup.
4. Fill each cup with about 1 tablespoon spinach mixture. Refrigerate remaining spinach mixture. Sprinkle filling in each cup with about 1 teaspoon cheese. Bake 9 to 14 minutes or until edges of biscuits are golden brown. Cool in pan 5 minutes; remove from pan to cooling rack. Cool 5 minutes longer. Repeat with remaining biscuits, filling and cheese, cooling pans between batches.
.5 To serve, break each of the remaining 20 to 25 tortilla chips into 3 triangular pieces. Insert 1 triangle into each cup. Serve warm.

Baked Alaska Meat Loaf

This is my favorite meatloaf recipe in the world and it's so easy to make!

Ingredients:

1 package McCormick® Brown Gravy Mix
1 1/2 pounds ground beef
2 teaspoons McCormick® Onions, Minced
1/4 teaspoon McCormick® Black Pepper, Ground
1 teaspoon McCormick® Chives
4 servings instant mashed potatoes
1/2 cup shredded cheddar cheese

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 350°F.
2. Mix Gravy Mix, ground beef, minced onion and pepper in large bowl.
3. Shape into a loaf, 2 inches high, in shallow baking pan.
4. Stir chives into prepared mashed potatoes.
5. Spread mixture over meat loaf.
6. Bake 55 minutes or until cooked through.
7. Sprinkle with cheese.
8. Bake 2 minutes longer or until cheese melts.
9. Allow to cool and serve.

Just Fred

An Arizona Highway Patrol officer stops a Harley for traveling faster than the posted speed limit, so he asks the biker his name.

"Fred," he replies.

'Fred what?' the officer asks.

"Just Fred," the man responds.

The officer is in a good mood, thinks he might just give the biker a break, and write him out a warning instead of a ticket. The officer then presses him for the last name.

The man tells him that he used to have a last name but lost it.

The officer thinks that he has a nut case on his hands but plays along with it. 'Tell me, Fred, how did you lose your last name?'

The biker replies, "It's a long story, so stay with me... I was born Fred Johnson. I studied hard and got good grades. When I got older, I realized that I wanted to be a doctor. I went through college, medical school, internship, residency, and finally got my degree, so I was Fred Johnson, MD. After a while I got bored being a doctor, so I decided to go back to school. Dentistry was my dream! Got all the way through School, got my degree, so then I was Fred Johnson, MD, DDS. Got bored doing dentistry, so I started fooling around with my assistant and she gave me VD, so now I was Fred Johnson, MD, DDS, with VD.

Well, the ADA found out about the VD, so they took away my DDS. Then I was Fred Johnson, MD, with VD. Then the AMA found out about the ADA taking away my DDS because of the VD, so they took away my MD leaving me as Fred Johnson with VD. Then the VD took away my Johnson, so now I am Just Fred."

The officer walked away in tears, laughing.

Dear Cutie-Pie

Dr. Kelly Flanigan is a therapist who has seen women who need a good man in their lives, time and time again. He wanted to write a letter to not only his little girl, but to every woman out there. It's a fantastic reminder of what a man needs to be to his wife.

"Dear Cutie-Pie,

Recently, your mother and I were searching for an answer on Google. Halfway through entering the question, Google returned a list of the most popular searches in the world. Perched at the top of the list was "How to keep him interested."

It startled me. I scanned several of the countless articles about how to be sexy and sexual, when to bring him a beer versus a sandwich, and the ways to make him feel smart and superior.

And I got angry.

Little One, it is not, has never been, and never will be your job to "keep him interested."

Little One, your only task is to know deeply in your soul -- in that unshakable place that isn't rattled by rejection and loss and ego - that you are worthy of interest. (If you can remember that everyone else is worthy of interest also, the battle of your life will be mostly won. But that is a letter for another day.)

If you can trust your worth in this way, you will be attractive in the most important sense of the word: you will attract a boy who is both capable of interest and who wants to spend his one life investing all of his interest in you.

Little One, I want to tell you about the boy who doesn't need to be kept interested, because he knows you are interesting:

I don't care if he puts his elbows on the dinner table - as long as he puts his eyes on the way your nose scrunches when you smile. And then can't stop looking.

I don't care if he can't play a bit of golf with me - as long as he can play with the children you give him and revel in all the glorious and frustrating ways they are just like you.

I don't care if he doesn't follow his wallet - as long as he follows his heart and it always leads him back to you.

I don't care if he is strong --as long as he gives you the space to exercise the strength that is in your heart.

I couldn't care less how he votes - as long as he wakes up every morning and daily elects you to a place of honor in your home and a place of reverence in his heart.

I don't care about the color of his skin - as long as he paints the canvas of your lives with brushstrokes of patience, and sacrifice, and vulnerability, and tenderness.

I don't care if he was raised in this religion or that religion or no religion - as long as he was raised to value the sacred and to know every moment of life, and every moment of life with you, is deeply sacred.

In the end, Little One, if you stumble across a man like that and he and I have nothing else in common, we will have the most important thing in common: You.

Because in the end, Little One, the only thing you should have to do to "keep him interested" is to be you.

Your eternally interested guy,

Daddy"

Alabama Slammer

An Alabama Slammer is a cocktail made with amaretto, Southern Comfort, sloe gin, and orange juice. It is served in a Collins glass and is also known as a Southern Slammer.

Ingredients:
1/2 oz amaretto almond liqueur
1/2 oz Southern Comfort peach liqueur
1/2 oz sloe gin
1 splash orange juice
1 splash sweet and sour mix

Directions:
Pour above ingredients into a stainless steel shaker over ice and shake until completely cold. Strain into a glass and serve.