My wife and I have been married for over thirty years. When my daughter asked me how we’ve stayed married for so long I told her we have come to an agreement on one thing:
I don’t try to run her life, and I don’t try to run my life…

After just a few years of marriage filled with constant arguments, a young man and his wife decided the only way to save their marriage was to try counseling. They had been at each other’s throats for some time and felt that this was their last straw.

When they arrived at the counselor’s office, the counselor jumped right in and opened the floor for discussion. “What seems to be the problem?” Immediately, the husband held his long face down without anything to say. In contrast, the wife began talking 90 miles an hour, describing all the wrongs within their marriage.

After 15 minutes of listening to the wife, the counselor went over to her, picked her up by her shoulders, kissed her passionately and sat her back down. Afterwards, the wife sat speechless.

The marriage counselor looked over at the husband, who stared in disbelief. The counselor said to the husband, “Your wife NEEDS that at least twice a week!”

The husband scratched his head and replied, “I can have her here on Mondays and Thursdays.”

Little Chad was one of those holy terrors who got into everything.

One day his mother suggested to his father that they buy him a bike for his birthday.

“Do you really believe that’ll help improve his behavior?” he said, somewhat surprised.

“Well, no,” she admitted, “But it’ll spread it over a wider area.”

This was forwarded to me by my friend Katie, but I have no idea where it came from:

I had forgotten to get my estrogen patch prescription refilled, and soon the symptoms of menopause–hot flashes, forgetfulness, irritability–returned with a vengence.

At the drugstore, I found myself telling the pharmacist all about my problems. After listening patiently, he asked, “So, how many people asked you to get this refilled?”

Parting Shot: Leo and his neighbor had agreed to go halvsies on some hedges, buying a whole lot on sale, each paying half and taking half. But when Leo came home he found his neighbor had appropriated more than his fair share.

Leo accused his neighbor of being a hedge hog.

~ Cynthia MacGregor

This entry was posted on Monday, April 21st, 2008 at 4:04 pm and is filed under Kids, Marriage, People, Relationships. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.