Does my Bum Look Big in This?

Tending to the guinea pigs, I bent over to push a lettuce leaf through the cage bars. As I did so, my daughter reached out and pulled something from my behind. It was a sticker. She read the words of the sticker aloud:

“100% UV filter…”

There was a pause, and then she added, “Mum, it’s official; your bottom is so big it blocks out the sun!” The whole room exploded in laughter.

True story o_O

 

Here’s another:

The plumber had come to remove the old gas cooker. He was having difficulty reaching in the small gap between the oven and the wall. As he bent further and further, his trousers began to creep down leaving his underwear showing. He grunted and gasped and then finally, with an extra effort, said, “Aha! I can see it all now!”

“So can we!” My dad, usually so very polite, exclaimed and raised his eyebrows at what was now on view.

A Day in the Life of a Proverbs 31 Husband

Another reblog!

This made me chuckle thinking of what my husband might write about me. I’m the epitome of the long lost Proverbs 47 woman. The rest of Proverbs got stuck down the back of the sofa along with three polo mints and a lottery scratchcard, so people haven’t generally heard of it. Also, of course, there’s the Proverbs 48 man: ‘A husband of goodly manners, who can find? He putteth down the toilet seat and cleaneth out the sink after shaving…’

I don’t know why but I’m reminded of a telephone conversation I had with my mother several years ago. I may have shared this story before. Where I come from ‘pastor’ is pronounced the same as ‘pasta’. Also, most church leaders are not ‘pastor’ but vicar or minister, etc. ‘Pastor’ is quite unusual. So when I said I had an appointment with the pastor my mother thought I was joking about my lunch, laughed, and told me she’d just had a sandwich. I didn’t know why she was talking about sandwiches all of a sudden, but it was clear she was more than a little worried when I said I was going to talk to the ‘pasta’…

Tim's Blog - Just One Train Wreck After Another

Hey Pal!

I know I’ve owed you an email for a while. Sorry about not staying in touch, but life here has been crazy. Just as a for instance, here’s what yesterday was like for me.

9:00 – Got out of bed. I woke up earlier but my wife told me to sleep in because she had everything covered. I have so much confidence in her I just had to roll over and go back to sleep.

9:05 – She brought me breakfast all the way from the kitchen on the other side of the house. And this house is HUGE. I mean, I don’t mean to boast but with the money she brings home from her flax and wool factory she insisted I should enjoy the lifestyle she can afford to give me.

10:00 – I headed to the city park to brag about my wife. Seriously, those other…

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EMDR: Laughter, the Best Medicine

When I am low, not many things make sense. Music can be helpful, especially positive songs and praise music, but laughter is, as the old saying goes, the best of medicines. I find I need to keep away from anything negative at the moment (because my head has enough already), and instead try to put into practice the words of St. Paul:

Delight yourselves in God, yes, find your joy in him at all times. Have a reputation for gentleness, and never forget the nearness of your Lord.

Don’t worry over anything whatever; tell God every detail of your needs in earnest and thankful prayer, and the peace of God which transcends human understanding, will keep constant guard over your hearts and minds as they rest in Christ Jesus.

Here is a last piece of advice. If you believe in goodness and if you value the approval of God, fix your minds on the things which are holy and right and pure and beautiful and good.

Philippians 4:4-8 (Phillips)

Our family love Mr. Bean. He appeals across the ages and across the autism spectrum too, which is good because ASD children often don’t understand humour. Prince enjoys Mr. Bean, as does little Chip, and they both often find comedy… er… elusive. The number of times we’ve had conversations beginning “Mummy, is this a joke?” followed by something which is less a joke and more a random statement! And then they’ll try again with a hundred more random statements. No wonder poor Fluff rolls her eyes. Her big brother and little sister’s ‘jokes’ are funny for all the wrong reasons o_O But I’d not change a hair on any of their bonny heads and I am thankful for my family, and for Mr. Bean!

Still Giggling

The saying goes that laughter is the best medicine. Words cannot express how true this is for me! Laughter (when it is not at someone else’s expense) can be genuinely healing, a release from weary cynicism, sometimes even an expression of joy. If there is one thing we Brits know how to do it is to laugh at ourselves. There is a grand tradition of witty cynicism and intelligent repartee stemming from Shakespeare to Oscar Wilde to my all-time-favourite the late great Tony Hancock. In more recent times we have the likes of Bridget Jones, Jack Dee, Victoria Wood, French & Saunders, Paul Merton, Sarah Millican, Sandi Toksvig, Miranda Hart, Ross Noble… the list goes on and on. To misquote Elizabeth Barrett Browning, ‘How do I love thee, BBC Radio 4 comedy? Let me count the ways…’ During some of the most troubled times of my life, the gift of laughter has been the one thing that carried me through. For this I thank God! Of particular worth to me personally have been the Sacred Diaries series by the wonderful Adrian Plass. Here’s an extract:

 

**’Wednesday December 25th

…Gerald and Anne and I left for the Christmas service. 

Enjoyed it all very much except for a point halfway through the prayer-time, when George Farmer, who was sitting behind me, stood up and began to swing his fist from side to side as he prayed fervently for goodwill among God’s people.

Suddenly felt a heavy blow on the side of my head and slumped forward, momentarily stunned. Shook my head to clear it, and realised to my amazement that Farmer was still ranting on as if nothing had happened!

Didn’t feel much good will.

I said to him afterwards, “I forgive you for punching me in the head, George.”

He said, “Did I really do that?”

Gerald said, “Yes, you did. It was on your twenty-fifth ‘just’ – I was counting.”

 

I can’t help but inwardly smile whenever I hear someone ‘just’ praying… Why do UK Christians insert the words ‘just’, ‘Lord’ and ‘really’ into their prayers so much? We’re just so thankful, Lord, really just for your blessings, Lord, and we ask that you, Lord, just really fill our hearts today, Lord, just fill our hearts with your love, Lord. Really just fill our hearts, Lord. These prayers are like meringues – mostly air o_O Hmm. Maybe there are more virtues than I at first perceived in the practice of silent prayer…?

 

**’I could be a really good Christian if other people didn’t mess it up all the time.

I’ve noticed this before…’

 

Just for fun, here’s Ross Noble at his insanely brilliant best:

 

 

 

**From The Sacred Diary of Adrian Plass (Aged 37 3/4) by the inimitable Adrian Plass