Forgive me, but the remainder of the puns that I shared with you last month were just too good to ignore. So, here are some of the ones that I didn’t tell you about last month.
• What’s the definition of a will? It’s a dead giveaway.
Well, if my kids are waiting for the reading of my will, are they going to be disappointed! I have told them several times that I would bequeath one (or two of three) of my feral cats to them, but, strangely enough, they didn’t seem interested.
Other than that, they can have my stamping collection, my assortment of hand-made cards or my rolls of wrapping paper. Something tells me that none of those will stir their enthusiasm.
But don’t let me forget the honey in the jar in the cupboard. Remember...there are folks who say that honey lasts forever. Some found in a pyramid in Egypt was still edible after thousands of years. Wow! Something for my heirs to look forward to.
• Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana.
OK, this one take a second, but when you get it, you will realize the truth of it. And I hate fruit flies, the pesky little devils. I also hate those no-see-ums. They are so tiny that I often think they are specks of dirt on the plate or floor, only to discover that they are moving. If only I knew where they were moving to!
Since I cannot discover their place of origin, I can only get rid of the ones that are trying to inhabit my cat food in the dish on the floor.
The old song said, “How do you speak to an angel? I’m completely in the dark. When you know that you’ve just met an angel, is there a proper remark?” I want to paraphrase that: “How do you speak to no-see-ums? They must come out in the dark. When you know that you’ve met a no-see-um, is there an appropriate insecticide to impart?”
• Santa’s helpers are subordinate clauses.
Have you ever watch “Elf”? It’s one of my favorite Christmas movies. Will Ferrell is adorable and so naïve about life in the real world. And he loves his Poppa Elf and thanks that Santa Claus is right up there with the saints. I love to watch children at Christmas time. They are so into the holiday.
Yes, they are aware that Jesus was born. They know why we celebrate and are happy about it. But mention Santa and their eyes sparkle. Santa is real and special and very important. And the Elf on the Shelf is an indispensable ingredient to many of them. He lends his magic to the holiday, and helps to pass the slow-moving time until Santa visits.
• He had a photographic memory that was never developed.
How I would envy anyone, anywhere who had a photographic memory. I am aware that some people do. I have not been blessed with one, and as the years go by, the memory I do have is sometimes at low tide. It’s like the negative in my dad’s old darkroom in the basement, submerged and slow to appear.
I often tell my friends when I can’t recall a fact or image that is lurking on the edges of my memory: “When it comes to me at 3 a.m., I’ll call you.” They always express regret and ask me not to bother. Probably because their brain at 3 a.m. is working on something they forgot to tell ME.
• A boiled egg in the morning is hard to beat.
Boiled egg in the morning? No thanks. At lunch time? Welcome. As a snack? Delicious. But in the morning, I like my eggs scrambled – with cheese, if you please.
My niece Paula eats two eggs in the morning faithfully. Her doctor tells her that it not affected her cholesterol levels one iota. Now, I think that Paula is an anomaly, so don’t go following her example, and don’t tell anyone that you can eat two eggs every morning without serious results. But, if you do, please don’t tell them where you heard it.
• With her marriage, she got a new name and a dress.
Well, fortunately, I got more than a new name and address when I married Jim. I went around singing, “I’m in love. I’m in love. I’m in love with a wonderful guy, “ just like Nellie did in “South Pacific.” And also fortunately Jim’s Army service was over when I met him. I didn’t have to worry, like Nellie did with the Frenchman, that he was going somewhere where there was a chance that he could be killed.
Yep! I was there to pick out the tie that went with his shirt (Jim was color blind), and to cook his pasta and/or potatoes (Jim was a great griller, though). He was there to wipe my tears when I was sad or upset (Jim was very kind that way) and to be my date every Saturday night (unless the kids were sick or we didn’t have enough money to go out).
I liked the name and address I got, though, and would be happy to have them again. If only...
That’s it for puns. I promise. Unless you think of some. But, if you can’t, call my son Tim; his daughters often plead with him to stop his punning. He is incorrigible.
PAT LEALI is a lifelong resident of the Shenango Valley. She lives in Hermitage.