I was having trouble with the idea of turning 30 and was oversensitive to any signs of advancing age. When I found a prominent gray hair right at the front, I pointed to my forehead.
"Have you seen this?" I indignantly asked my husband.
"What?" he asked. "The wrinkles?"
I had spent the late winter months waiting impatiently for signs of spring. When the first warm, sunny Saturday arrived, I eagerly unlocked the storm door and stepped onto our patio deck.
I was pleased by the sight of green sprouts and the sounds of singing birds. More than anything else, I was delighted in the sweet aroma of the spring air.
Knocking on the kitchen window, I beckoned to my wife to join me in enjoying the pleasures of the season. She quietly brought me back to earth when she reminded me that I was standing over the dryer vent, inhaling the scent of fabric softener.
After his marriage broke up, my manager became very philosophical. "I guess it was in our genes," he sighed.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Her sign is the one for earth. Mine is the one for water. Together we made mud."
When my wife and I were vacationing in the eastern part of our state, our car's license plate was stolen.
We planned to go to a local office for a replacement, but then we discovered that our registration had expired.
The new one was at home in a pile of mail. After much thought, we came up with a solution. Taping a sign over the empty license plate space on the rear of the vehicle, we made the eight-hour trip home safely.
Not a single state trooper stopped us, but many passing motorists took great pains to honk and wave at us.
Our sign read "Just Married!"