One of my followers sent me this and said I could post it. Thanks Dave Lewis.
Three old men got together every morning for a coffee and a chat and this one day the subject was bowel movements. The first old man was worried that he hadn’t gone in three days. The second said he needed an enema once a week but the third said he went regular every morning at six. That’s great the other two said. No it isn’t he said cause I don’t get up till nine!
Mother built the little path herself as well as a stone patio using little-old-lady-sized rocks. She does all her own planting. I dig the big holes for her. She does the rest. She does have he perennial “rose covered cottage.” She twines pink climbing roses over her porch rails. They are mean. It cured the problem of free-range kids climbing on the rails. Her neighborhood is full of them. She sprinkles flour over tomatoes and warns the kids they might get poisoned. It works. She never loses a tomato anymore. The neighborhood kids used to pick them and her flowers, but now they worry about the poison.
Now for the poop part of the story, Once Mother gets a notion in her head, she can not be side-tracked. Mother and I stopped in at the grocery store one morning. As we made our way back to my vehicle, I spotted a dignified elderly gentleman hurriedly making his way back to his own car parked adjacent to mine. He seemed to be in some distress, so I slowed my place to stay out of his way. As he sidled past me, I got a whiff and realized the reason for his scurrying. I slowed my pace and acted distracted to give him time to get to his car and save his dignity.
Meanwhile, Mother was right behind me. She didn’t notice his predicament, only that an oldster was getting ahead of her. She is vain about being spry for her age and was determined not to be left in his dust. She picked up her pace, catching up to him. Getting into my car as the wind changed, she got a foul whiff of feces. They were standing back to back, almost touching as she inspected her shoe and announced. “Something smells awful. There must have been a dog running loose doing his business. Better check your shoe. I don’t have anything on my shoe.” Just in case I hadn’t heard, she repeated, just like I was five years old. “You’d better check your shoe! Something smells awful! Don’t you smell it!” By this time, the poor man was sitting in his car with the window open.
“No, Mother. I don’t smell a thing. Get in. Let’s go.” By this time, the whole town had to know what the problem was.
It seemed like an eternity before we got away. “Mother, that man had messed up his clothes and was trying to slip into his car. Of course, I smelled him. Dead people smelled him. I was just trying to avoid embarrassing him. You were just about backing into him.”
She was horrified. “Oh, My Lord! Did I get anything on me? Oh well. It couldn’t be helped!”