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Work-at-home mom: take a deep breath and Do Life Different as you allow these devotions for work-at-home moms to fill the vacuum of your needy heart in the chaos of your busy world.
 
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Dec
05

Is it a fragrance or a stench?

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This past week I had to go to the mall. I know, I should know better, but I thought I could sneak in, get what I needed and sneak out again. So much for my thoughts.

I wanted to purchase several tie chains for my neckties and searched every jewelry store and nobody had them. Finally, I ordered three online, which would be shipped free, (which always gets my attention) to the nearest store, which happened to be in the mall.

I do not like the mall and choose not to go there if I can help it. When in the mall, I am usually very nervous and get confused and do not know which way I am going. Once I get in, I am not quite sure how to get out again. Everything seems to be contrived to confuse a person like myself.

Looking down at the ground while walking I became rather confused and I happen to turn into an open door.

My mall savvy is not sophisticated in the least. The door I turned into happened to be for the store Victoria’s Secret. I do not know who Victoria is, I did not know what the store was all about, but when I got in the store, I discovered Victoria’s Secret much to my great embarrassment.

That is exactly the reason I do not like going into the malls. They have places like this that a gentleman, such as Yours Truly, should never enter.

I am not sure how I got out of that store, all I can remember was a great deal of hilarious laughter thrown in my direction from inside. I just hope they did not recognize me. They probably did not, because I had all my clothes on.

It has been a long time since that incident and now I had to go and pick up my order. I put together a plan to sneak in very quietly, pick up my order and tiptoe out as quietly as I came in.

You know what they say about well-laid plans! Whether mine was well laid or not, it blew up in my face.

I did slip into the mall and found the store where my order was. I picked them up and quietly turned around and started for the door. How I got turned around is any man’s guess. Actually, I think I turned around too many times. For the next 15 minutes, I tried to find the way I came in so I could go out.

The trouble started when I hesitated. I stopped to try to get my bearings and in stopping a young woman approached me.

“How do you do today, sir,” she said most cheerfully.

I nodded and tried to get away as graciously as possible.

She would have none of it. “And how do you smell today, sir?”

Had I been in my right sense of mind, I would have told her I smelled with my nose. Being in a confused state of affairs, I had no quick come back for her. It was then that she introduced me to her product. Read More→

Rev. James Snyder, Out to Pastor bloggerI am not known as “Mr. Fix-It Man”. When it comes to mechanical things, I am really handy-challenged. I can do many things, but I cannot fix anything.

When talking about the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage, it is a different story. If there is something she cannot fix then it isn’t broken. No matter what is broken or how long it has been broken, she somehow can fix it. I do not know how she does it, and believe me, I am not going to ask.

There is nothing I cannot break and there is nothing she cannot fix. We make a wonderful team as long as I keep that scenario in my mind.

If I, for whatever reason, think I can fix something, I am in deep trouble. The more I try to fix something, the more broken it becomes. I have learned long ago to own up to this in my life.

I think it is wonderful to know what you cannot do. That eliminates trying to do something and failing every time. It is more wonderful to know who can fix what you break.

“Honey,” I say in a very sympathetic tone, “I broke this. Would you be able to fix it for me?”

“Of course,” she will reply with a silly little grin on her face, “let me have it.”

And I do.

The only thing I could ever fix is something needing a hammer. I can hammer something, but I can’t screw or unscrew a bolt. Of course, I can screw anything up with a hammer.

A long time ago, I learned how to handle this. Whenever anything breaks in the parsonage I immediately say, “Should I get my hammer and try to fix it?” To which I get a resounding “Nooooooo”.

I then say, “Well, if you need me just call for me.” And I know I will never be called.

If I had the time, I would calculate how much money we have saved during our marriage by having her fix things that were broken. I think it would be an amazing amount of money.

A few weeks back the front plastic bumper on my truck broke and was hanging. I casually mentioned it to my wife not expecting anything. About 30 minutes later she came in and said, “I got your truck fixed.”

I am not sure how much that saved me on auto repair but I sure thanked her and then took her out for lunch. After all, what’s a husband supposed to do?

This all came to a head just a couple weeks ago. It is the beginning of a political cycle. We know it is a political cycle because all of the politicians are rather dizzy. My apologies to all the blondes out there.

We kept hearing the same phrase from every politician that was running. “Washington is broken and I’m going there to fix it.”

I was ignoring it because I know that every politician has their tongue detached from their brain. Can you imagine what would really happen if we had intelligent people running for office?

As we were listening to some of these advertisements, my wife turned to me and said, “There, you could help them fix Washington.”

I just looked at her and said, “Huh.” I did not get anything that she was saying with that.

“You’re always wanting to help fix things around here, why don’t you offer to help fix Washington?”

I did not know if I should laugh or if I should be angry.

I was afraid to say anything but eventually I said, “What in the world do you mean?”

She looked at me with those giggly dancing eyes and said, “You are always offering to fix something with your hammer. Why don’t you offer to give them your hammer so that they can fix Washington?”

Was she serious? Or, was she setting me up for something?

Staring at me she finally broke down into hilarious laughter.

“How better could they fix Washington than using your hammer?”

It does not happen often, but I wholeheartedly agreed with what she was saying.

If Washington is broken, and I am not sure what that means, perhaps they could fix it with my hammer by smashing everything in Washington. My hammer is a good tool for that kind of work. I cannot tell you how many things I have smashed unintentionally with my hammer. Read More→

Nov
14

Home Has Never Been Sweeter

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Rev. James Snyder, Out to Pastor bloggerIf the good Lord ever intended me to travel as much as I have been traveling, I’m sure He would have given me wings. I like the idea of traveling; it is the actual traveling that gets me. The only good thing about traveling is that home looks so good from so far away.

Several years ago, I received an invitation to speak at a conference. It sounded like a great idea at the time. I have been there before and have had a wonderful time. The thing about this trip was it was the same week my son and daughter-in-law were expecting their fifth baby, which would have been our ninth grandchild. Whether it is the first or the ninth grandchild makes no difference whatsoever to those creatures called grandmothers.

When the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage learned of my plans and that the conference I would be speaking at was in close proximity to the ninth grandchild, which was the end of the story. Plans for “our” travel began. According to her, I could drop her off at my son’s house and continue to my conference.

My wife loves it when her plan comes together.

I am not exactly sure how you plan the birth date of a child, but my wife was keeping close contact to make sure it would happen when she wanted it to happen. Grandmothers are like that. According to her, the baby was to be born at such a time that she could go and spend the entire week with the new baby. I do not know how grandmothers do it, but they have a secret power unbeknownst to us on the male side of the ledger.

As the time approached for our departure and the imminent birth, my wife became a little nervous.

“What if we get there and the baby isn’t born yet?”

As if, I knew the answer to that question. Why is it wives have the innate ability to ask questions that no husband in his right mind or in any mind, for that matter, could answer?

“I will not leave their home if the baby isn’t born yet.”

Although it sounded like a threat, it was a plan I could work with, but I kept that information to myself.

The day before we were scheduled to leave, the blessed event happened. My wife’s ninth grandchild entered this world and that made everything all right. It was my ninth grandchild too, but nobody paid me any mind. If the truth were known, I was the one paying. I paid for the whole trip.

It turned out to be a little girl, which was a surprise to everyone. Therefore, Grandmother had to do some last-minute shopping. I paid for that too; in more ways than I can count here.

The two days driving to the scene of the blessed event were filled with nonstop chatter about the new granddaughter. I nodded my head a lot and judiciously filtered in an occasion “aha.” I do not know who this new granddaughter thinks she is but I do know who the grandmother thinks the granddaughter is. Maybe that is all that really matters.

Although we never met this new addition to the family, my wife seemed to know everything about her. I have often wondered how mothers and grandmothers know so much about their offspring. I often get their names mixed up.

I dropped the newly crowned grandmother at my son’s house and proceeded to my conference. I like speaking at conferences, primarily because people pay to hear me talk, and they actually want to hear what I have to say.

My cell phone was all a flutter because almost every hour I got an update on what this new grandchild was all about. According to the reports I received, this was the most beautiful, the most wonderful, the most extraordinary grandchild ever born on planet earth.

I agreed, because, well, look at her grandfather. Read More→

Categories : Articles, Humor, Jill's Blog
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Nov
07

Financial Tip Of The Week: Pay Attention

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Rev. James Snyder, Out to Pastor bloggercredit cardsEnjoying a casual evening at home, reclining in my favorite easy chair reading, while the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage was chatting on the telephone. I seldom pay attention to phone conversations. After all, I only get one side of the conversation, which may be misleading at the very best. I’ve been caught in that trap before with some pretty dire consequences. I am not going to get caught again, if I can help it.

Then an odd phrase caught my attention: “plastic surgery.” My ears perked up and I heard my wife say, “I certainly agree with that article and I’m going to do some plastic surgery myself.”

Well, you can imagine what thoughts were racing through my head. When she hung up the telephone, I queried her about it.

In my book, plastic surgery is a big step.

“You do support me in this plastic surgery plan, don’t you?”

There are times to disagree with your spouse, but as a husband for over 45 years, I have never discovered that time. Forcing a smile, I nodded in the affirmative and told her she had my full support in whatever she decided.

I had to admit that the “time” had finally come to our humble abode. Who am I to fight it? I go by this motto, “He who smiles and agrees with his spouse lives to smile another day.”

I plan to smile until the day I die.

I never really thought about plastic surgery, but perhaps my wife was right. Perhaps she could use a little face-lift. For me to get a face-lift, the surgeon would need a huge construction crane. Then comes the awkward part, what do they do with my face after it was lifted?

Women, more than men, are a little sensitive about their appearance. For a man, “appearance” means he showed up. A woman has an altogether different approach to the term “appearance.”

Some women look in the mirror and see where some improvements could be made. For example, they see bags under their eyes that could not get through the airport carry-on luggage size requirement.

Then there is the problem with their nose, which could stand a little tweaking. For all practical purposes, one of those double chins has to go. Moreover, what woman couldn’t use a tummy tuck and other snippings of the flesh?

Believe me; I never would have brought it up, but if that makes my wife happy, then whatever it costs, we can put it on a credit card. The only problem with putting something like this on a credit card is that by the time you pay it off you need another procedure.

But, she is worth it in my checkbook. I have no compunction whatsoever of writing out that check.

Each day I checked the appointment calendar hanging on our refrigerator to find out when she would be going in for the surgery. Day after day, I looked, but could never find any appointment.

I supposed she was a little sensitive about the whole thing and did not want it staring at her day after day on the appointment calendar. Whatever the reason, she had my silent support, for all it was worth. I am sure she would do the same for me. That is what marriage is all about. Supporting one another in the developments of life, whatever that development might be.

I decided to tuck this little bit in the back of my mind and, however it developed would be all right with me.

One day this week, I went to the Slurp N’ Burp Café for a quiet lunch. The issue was far from my mind as I enjoyed a delicious lunch. As I finished my last cup of coffee, the waitress brought my bill and I pulled my wallet out to pay for it.

In searching my wallet for a credit card I discovered, much to my chagrin, that there were no credit cards to be found. Somehow, I had lost my credit cards. Perhaps, in the morning when I was getting dressed they dropped out of my wallet as I was placing it in my trousers.

The problem with that theory was that all the other cards in my wallet were intact.

Fortunately, I had my cell phone and called my wife.

“Honey, I’ve lost all my credit cards. I’m here at the restaurant and I can’t find any credit cards in my wallet. Do you have any idea what I did with my credit cards?”

“I cut them all up.”

“You did what?”

“You said you supported my plastic surgery plan, didn’t you?”

“But, I thought…”

“You, thought what?”

Oh boy.

Dear reader: please disregard the first part of this column. If you happen to read my obituary in next week’s newspaper, you will know that my lovely, vivacious, eternally youthful wife did not disregard the first part and I’m currently Resting In Pieces. Read More→

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Oct
31

If This Is Autumn, What Was Summer?

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Rev. James Snyder, Out to Pastor bloggerroad through treesI must confess that in the Parsonage there are times of confusion. It has nothing to do with age; it has everything to do with the human brain that is undernourished.

The Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage can say one thing and I can say something completely different. There are those rare occasions when we are on the same page, the same sentence and almost the same words. Those occasions do not come as often as I would like.

The good news is, we are all on the same book, which makes the difference.

The other day, for example, I was in a panic mode. I was trying to get stuff done and was not making progress. Finally, the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage said, “What are you in such a fuss about?”

“Well,” I said rather exhaustively, “it’s Friday and I’m trying to get my work done.”

My wife just stood there looking at me with one of those “looks” she is most famous for. Then, placing both hands on her hips, she said, “Silly boy, don’t you know it’s Thursday?”

It is quite disconcerting when you get something wrong. You think you are doing the right thing, but it turns out you are not. I think it is one day and it turns out to be another day instead. Sometimes one day looks exactly like the other.

As we were eating breakfast the other day, my wife stopped and said, “Do you know this is the first day of autumn?”

I had to stop and think about that for a while. That means summer is over and fall is in the air.

“If it’s autumn,” I said quite seriously, “why is it still so hot outside?” The last three weeks the temperature has been in the 90s and the heat index was over 100. That is really hot.

Looking at her, I said, “It sure doesn’t feel like autumn does it?” She agreed with me, which was quite an accomplishment on my side of the table.

A song says, “And the beat goes on.” I would like to change that a little bit and sing a song, “And the heat goes on.” Simply put, I found no difference between the first week of autumn in the last week of summer. After all, if it is autumn then the weather ought to act like it is autumn. Read More→

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Oct
24

Where’s Sherlock Holmes When You Need Him?

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Rev. James Snyder, Out to Pastor bloggerSmile Post-itI, like so many people, love a good mystery. I have read all of the Sherlock Holmes stories, the Father Brown stories and other good mystery novels. I just like trying to solve a good mystery.

A good mystery does not reveal the mystery until the very end. All the way through the story, importance evidence points to that person and the other person and so forth. However, you must read the end of the story to find out the answer to the mystery.

Mysteries do not just exist in novels for short stories. In my case, mysteries are all through my life. I cannot manage one day without some kind of a mystery.

It is not because I am getting older either. As I remember my younger days, it too was filled with mysteries.

I remember that one Christmas Eve when I was going to solve the mystery of Santa Claus. I heard about this mysterious person, but I had never seen him and this Christmas, I promised myself, I am going to see who this Santa Claus really is.

That night my parents sent me and my brother and sister to bed early because it was Christmas Eve. We had our little party around the Christmas tree and admired where all the Christmas gifts should be come morning.

Then at the strike of 10 o’clock, we were sent to our bedrooms to await the coming of Santa Claus and the Christmas gifts. I decided to stay up and just see how Mr. Santa Claus worked his mystery on Christmas Eve.

Hiding in the shadows, I could see my mother and father around the Christmas tree drinking some Christmas punch, talking and laughing. They seemed to be having a good time. I was a little irritated because they were having a good time at my expense.

Then I heard my mother say, “Don’t you think it’s about time?”

My mother and father looked at each other and giggled one of those hilarious giggles. My father said, “It sure is. Let’s go and get them.”

At the time, I really did not understand what he was talking about. What were they supposed to go and get? Why won’t they get out of the way so Santa Claus can come and do his “thing?” Read More→

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Oct
17

How to Live with a Veggie-Holic

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Rev. James Snyder, Out to Pastor bloggervegetable isleIn our house, not many conflicts expose themselves. For the most part, it is a very quiet and serene home occupied by two lovebirds.

I am not saying we are perfect. For we are not. The imperfect side of this marvelous relationship is Yours Truly. I was born imperfect and I have honored my birthright ever since.

I do not care what some may say about crazy people, I have enjoyed my craziness all my life. When you are perfect, you have to be careful that you do not make any mistake or act crazy.

When, however, you are imperfect and tilt towards the crazy side of life, your life is a joy. If you make a mistake, well, that is part of life. But on the positive side, when you do something right, you become the amazement of people around you.

So, our relationship in the Parsonage has been a very wonderful relationship. At least, from my side of the room. What the other resident says may be quite different.

We do make a great team, though. I can break anything and she can fix anything. How much better do you need to be?

When I make a mistake, she can correct me even in front of people. Now that is what I like. I would hate people to think I am stupid, crazy is one thing but stupid is something altogether different. And it is the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage that consistently rescues me from being stupid.

Being a non-perfectionist, I can enjoy every day of my life, no matter what happens or what doesn’t happen.

I cannot imagine what life is like for that person who is a perfectionist, like my wife.

She sees something that needs fixing, and she is busy trying to fix it.

If something is out of place, she is the first one to put it in its place. She has put me in my place for many years.

Few things we disagree on but there is one thing on top of that list. They can be boiled down into one word, Vegetables.

My wife loves vegetables almost as much as I love apple fritters. I do not think since the day she was born a day has passed without her consuming some kind of vegetable. She knows vegetables like I know apple fritters. There is not a vegetable known to mankind that she has not consumed.

Even for breakfast, she likes to sneak in some kind of vegetable. With my oatmeal, for example, she likes to sneak in a carrot. What in the world do carrots have to do with breakfast?

Her response to this is simply, “Vegetables are good for you and it’s good to start the day off with a vegetable.”

For her sake, I will grudgingly put up with some vegetables. Some vegetables, however, I will not put up with, I have made my stand strong through the years and I have not moved. Leading the list would be Broccoli.

Yes, I know all of the benefits of eating broccoli. My wife has told me this over and over throughout the years and I can repeat it verbatim. Read More→

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Oct
10

Slow Is Just the Way I Go

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Rev. James Snyder, Out to Pastor bloggerOne of the main complaints in the Parsonage has to do with my procrastination. The Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage often refers to me as, Sir Procrastinator, as if it was a bad thing.

Anything that needs doing in our house, my wife is the first one to jump up and try to do it. She fixes things before they are even broken. How she does that, I will never know. It is a wife thing.

I, on the other hand, am slower than a politician trying to explain him or herself. For some reason, I was born in no hurry and that has been my motto all of my life. I am really not in a hurry for anything.

I take my time, relax whenever possible and just do not get excited about anything. I have found out that when I get excited about something and want to go fast forward, I always get into trouble. Trouble has become my middle name in this regard.

As a child, my parents wanted me to speed up and get things done quickly. I never could figure out why. Very few things need to be done in a speedy order.

I just do not have the energy, these days, to hurry up and get something done.

Last year, for example, the doctor gave me a little package to take home that I was supposed to put in a personal “sample” and send to the company. Certainly, I meant to do it as soon as I got home. But I took the slow way home, stopped and got a delicious banana split. I can only get these banana splits when I am driving by myself, for the other companion in our home has strict laws about such “nonsense,” as she calls it.

I actually enjoyed my “nonsense” very much.

When I got home, however, I had forgotten about the box in which I was supposed to put in my “sample” and send to the company. I put it somewhere and I just forgot about it.

“When,” my wife said, “are you going to take care of that and send it in?”

I almost said, “When pigs fly.” But because I was slow in getting that phrase out, it never got out. Of course, I am so glad I was slow in that regard.

Sometimes being slow has its rewards. Some people say being fast has its rewards. I would not know about that personally.

Several months went by. “Did you send that package in?”

“What package?” I said.

Then she reminded me of that package and that I had to send in my “sample” for the doctor had ordered it.

Doctors! What do they really know? After all, they are only “practicing” medicine. When they get it to perfection, then maybe I’ll believe them.

Several mornings when I would get up, I would hear the question, “Are you going to take care of what you’re supposed to do?”

I really meant to do it, but procrastination is the name of the game I play. I do not mean to play it that way, it just happens.

And it is not that I do not have a good memory. I do have a good memory in fact, I have locked several sections of my memory to save for when I get old. I will use that memory when I need it.

“You know,” argued my wife, “you’re not doing yourself any favors by putting this off. Why don’t you do it today?” Read More→

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Oct
03

Laughter in Any Other Language Is Just Not Funny

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Rev. James Snyder, Out to Pastor bloggerSmile Post-itWhen I was in high school, I played on the volleyball team. During one practice session, I forgot to bring my sneakers. Not thinking much of it, I just played anyway.

During the practice, I stepped forward to protect the player on the front line and when he jumped, he came down on my right foot. The consequence was he smashed my big toe.

That little incident put me out of the volleyball team for the rest of the season. I had to go to the doctor and have him fix my toe. I had to go several times for him to fix it. Consequently, my toenail on my right foot grew in crooked. It has been a painful thing ever since.

For years, I took care of it, but not too long ago I was doing more damage than help and I did not know what to do about it.

The Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage suggested that I go have a pedicure.

Looking at her, I said rather sarcastically, “A pedicure is for girls.”

“Well,” she said rather slowly, “if you go to the doctor it will be about $300. A pedicure is around $25. Now,” she continued, “you do the math.”

I must say it took me a long time to do the math on that one. I knew I had to have some kind of professional help with that toe. I was doing so much damage that it hurt just to walk. And, I’m not old enough to hobble around.

After a long evaluation I thought that I did not have anything to lose except, $275.

Not far from us was some kind of a Nail Salon. I went to it at least five times before I finally went in. It was a very humiliating experience for me. After all, I’m not a “girl.”

When I went in, finally, I noticed they were not speaking English. It turned out to be some Vietnamese family running this nail salon. When I walked in nobody was smiling, but as soon as the door shut behind me, everybody looked at me and started smiling. What’s that all about?

Somebody started speaking in Vietnamese and then everybody looked at me and started to laugh. I too laughed.

I had a moment of hesitation and I was about to turn around and go outside as fast as I could. It must have been the owner or manager of the nail salon who come up to me, greeted me very graciously and took me back to a chair where I was to have my pedicure. Read More→

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Sep
26

If It Wasn’t for Bad Luck

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Rev. James Snyder, Out to Pastor bloggerI am not the kind of person that dabbles in luck. [Knock on wood.] When something looks like a good gamble to me, I run from it as fast as I can. If it looks too good to be true, believe me, it probably is not true.

Luck has never been a friend of mine. The only luck I have ever had in life is when I conned a young lady into saying, “I do.” That was 47 years ago and I have never had a luckier moment since. Each year I appreciate that lucky moment more.

Apart from that, I am not on the lucky side of the road.

It is not that I would not appreciate a lucky moment every now and again. It is just that I am not the lucky kind of a person that gets that kind of thing.

My father taught me that life is not built on luck, but rather on hard work. Then he would send me to the backyard to do the mowing. Looking back on that situation, I think he was pretty lucky that I did not know what he was talking about and went and mowed the grass for him.

I tried this on my son once and he came back and said, “Dad, the mower is broken I can’t get it started.” Lucky for him.

I do not know why people are so interested in luck. Whenever I go to a convenience store, there is a long line behind the lottery ticket counter buying their ticket for the week.

One time I stood back and watched people buy their lottery ticket and everyone’s impression was they believed it was their lucky day and this was their lucky number.

I stopped one person and asked, “Do you buy lottery tickets often?”

The man looked at me and said very enthusiastically, “Yes, I buy them every week.” Then he chuckled as he showed me his recent lottery ticket.

“How often,” I queried, “have you won?”

He looked at me and his smile evaporated and he mumbled, “Never.”

As I thought about that, I began to realize how lucky the lottery was that there were so many people that did not have any luck whatsoever except bad luck.

I begin to calculate how much it would cost a year to buy lottery tickets every week. It was rather an amazing amount and I began to think how much bad luck really cost people.

It is lucky for me that I do not play the lottery because all I would experience is bad luck.

A young friend of mine was telling me that he had no luck in the dating compartment of his life. “All I have,” he complained, “is bad luck when it comes to dating.”

Then he explained that he was going to try his luck at one of those online dating programs. I am totally unfamiliar with that kind of thing, but he said that it might be his lucky day if he just went in that direction. “Who knows,” he smiled, “I just might get lucky.” Read More→

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