From the Hartland Loafer's Club

“I see Dracula's Transylvanian castle is up for sale. I heard that the IRS is going to buy it and use it as a training facility. My wife says I have a large stomach and a short tie. I don’t want to dig my grave with my teeth, but dieting is hard. I get grumpy when I don’t eat too much. It’s either beast or famine with me.”
“You should try getting some exercise.”
“I do. I like to exercise while I watch TV. I change the channel each time I eat a potato chip. I bought a book for my father right before Christmas. I thought it would be the perfect gift for the old man. The other day, I discovered I had forgotten to wrap the book and give it to Dad.”
“What was the title of the book?”
“How To Improve Your Memory.”

Ron Jacobsen farms near Freeborn. Ron told me that he speaks two languages fluently. The two are poor English and farmer.

Gary told me that he has been a tobacco chewer for most of his life. He’s a Minnesota cowboy who has been married for over 40 years. His wife does not share his snuff-chewing habit and is not taken with his predilection for the stuff. 
I asked Gary how he and his wife have compromised on his bad habit. 
Gary replied, “My wife and I made a deal when we first got married. Any time I wanted a kiss, I had to go brush my teeth first. This worked well when we were young. Now, when I get the urge for some serious smooching, by the time I finish brushing my teeth, I’ve forgotten why I was brushing them.”

I had a View-Master when I was a boy. The View-Master was a device made out of Bakelite that was used for viewing 3-D images on a paper disk. It was a refined stereoscope that provided competition for postcards. A neighbor had a similar device called a Tru Vue, but I preferred my View-Master. It was just the thing for a farm boy like me who had only been to small parts of Iowa and Minnesota. My favorite reel of photos was one that showed some of the scenic attractions of Alaska. I was mesmerized by the mountains of our largest state. There were only seven photos in my favorite reel and only a couple were of mountains, but the mountains demanded my attention. The closest thing to a real mountain that I had ever seen was a small lump of land located a few miles southeast of our farm. I was so taken with the photos of the mountains that I would force others to look at them over and over again. I’d show them to my father. He’d feign great interest and say, “You know, son, those mountains are older than the hills.” 

I stayed in a motel room the other day. It was a nice room. It had a bed and everything. It even had a flyswatter prominently displayed. I like a motel room that has the courage to say, “We have flies. Deal with it.”

I was flying home alone. I was reading a book while I sat waiting for my plane in Gatwick Airport in London. I had enjoyed my time investigating the nooks and crannies of England. 
As I turned the page of the tome, I heard a voice say, “What are you doing here?”
A year earlier, I had taught a class for young naturalists, freshly graduated from college. Here was one of the members of that class--a young woman, originally from Wales, who now called Minnesota home. She was a bit of home in a faraway place. 
She made my day. 
I’ll bet a letter from you to one of the members of our armed services serving far from home would do likewise. 

I was talking to the Holstein the other day. The Holstein is a retired milk cow, so she has time to talk. I told her that my wife and I had stopped at a mall to pick up something at a jewelry store. As we walked to the entrance, I noticed a bumper sticker reading, “I’d rather be shopping.” I guessed it was a wish that had come true.
The Holstein chewed her cud thoughtfully and said, "He who really wants to do something finds a way; he who doesn't finds an excuse."

If someone were to pay you $100 for every kind word you have ever 
spoken and collect 5 cents from you for every unkind word you’ve uttered, would you be rich or poor? Be kind.

©Al Batt 2007