My banana bread was baking in the oven when my teenage son came into the kitchen where the family had gathered. “That bread smells about done, don’t you think, Mom?” he asked. I told him I had set the timer and it was fine.<\/p>\n
A little later he repeated his suggestion. “Mom, I really think that loaf is done. Maybe you should check it.”<\/p>\n
Always quick to come to my defense, my younger son said, “Eddie, Mom’s been burning that banana bread for years. I think she knows when to take it out.”<\/p>\n
A woman decides to have a facelift for her birthday. She spends $15,000 and feels pretty good about the results. On her way home she stops at a newsstand to buy a paper. Before leaving, she asks the sales clerk, “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but how old do you think I am?”<\/p>\n
“About 32,” the clerk replies.<\/p>\n
“I turned 47 yesterday,” the woman says happily, and then moves to her next stop.<\/p>\n
A little while later she goes into McDonald’s and, upon getting her order, asks the counter girl the same question. She replies, “I’d guess about 29.” The woman replies, “Nope, I turned 47 yesterday!” Now she is feeling really good about herself.<\/p>\n
While waiting for the bus home, she asks an old man the same question. He replies, “I’m 78 and my eyesight is starting to go. Although, when I was young, there was a sure way to tell exactly how old a woman was, but it requires you to let me put my hands up your shirt and feel your boobs.”<\/p>\n
They waited in silence on the empty street until curiosity got the best of the woman and she finally says, “What the hell, go ahead.”<\/p>\n
The old man slips both hands up her shirt, under her bra, and begins to feel around. After a couple of minutes she says, “OK already: how old am I?”<\/p>\n
He removes his hands and says, “You are 47 years and one day old.”<\/p>\n
“That is amazing!” the stunned the woman says. “How did you know?”<\/p>\n
The old man replies, “I was behind you in line at McDonald’s.”<\/p>\n
If you get an email telling you that you can catch Swine Flu from tins of ham then delete it. It’s Spam.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
My banana bread was baking in the oven when my teenage son came into the kitchen where the family had gathered. “That bread smells about done, don’t you think, Mom?” he asked. I told him I had set the timer and it was fine. A little later he repeated his suggestion. “Mom, I really think … <\/p>\n