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A dog walked in to the telegram office one day. He took out a blank form and wrote on it:
"Woof. Woof. Woof. Woof. Woof. Woof. Woof. Woof. Woof."
Then he handed it to the clerk. The clerk examined the paper and said to the dog, "You know there are only nine words here? You could send another 'Woof' for the same price."
The dog replied, "But that would make no sense at all!"
Why 4 FEET 8.5 Inches is Very Important
Fascinating Stuff . . .
Railroad Tracks
The U.S. Standard railroad gauge (distance between the rails) is 4 feet, 8.5 inches.
That's an exceedingly odd number.
Why was that gauge used?
Because that's the way they built them in England,
and English expatriates designed the U.S. Railroads.
Why did the English build them like that?
Because the first rail lines were built by the same people who built the pre-railroad tramways, and that's the gauge they used.
Why did 'they' use that gauge then?
Because the people who built the tramways used the same jigs and tools that they had used
for building wagons, which used that wheel spacing.
Why did the wagons have that particular Odd wheel spacing?
Well, if they tried to use any other spacing, the wagon wheels would break on some of the old, long distance roads in England, because that's the spacing of the wheel ruts.
So, who built those old rutted roads?
Imperial Rome built the first long distance roads in Europe (including England) for their legions. Those roads have been used ever since.
And the ruts in the roads?
Roman war chariots formed the initial ruts, which everyone else had to match
for fear of destroying their wagon wheels.
Since the chariots were made for Imperial Rome,
they were all alike in the matter of wheel spacing.
Therefore, the United States standard railroad gauge of 4 feet, 8.5 inches
is derived from the original specifications for an Imperial Roman war chariot.
In other words, bureaucracies live forever.
So the next time you are handed a specification, procedure, or process, and wonder,
'What horse's ass came up with this?', you may be exactly right.
Imperial Roman army chariots were made just wide enough
to accommodate the rear ends of two war horses.
Now, the twist to the story:
When you see a Space Shuttle sitting on its launch pad,
you will notice that there are two big booster rockets attached to the sides of the main fuel tank. These are solid rocket boosters, or SRBs.
The SRBs are made by Thiokol at their factory in Utah.
The engineers who designed the SRBs would have preferred to make them a bit larger,
but the SRBs had to be shipped by train from the factory to the launch site.
The railroad line from the factory happens to run through a tunnel in the mountains
and the SRBs had to fit through that tunnel.
The tunnel is slightly wider than the railroad track, and the railroad track, as you now know,
is about as wide as two horses' behinds.
So, a major Space Shuttle design feature
of what is arguably the world's most advanced transportation system
was determined over two thousand years ago by the width of a horse's ass.
And you thought being a horse's ass wasn't important!
Now you know, Horses' Asses control almost everything.
Explains a whole lot of stuff, doesn't it?
The left lane on a multi lane highway is called the “passing lane” for a reason.
Old Farmer's Advice:
Your fences need to be horse-high, pig-tight and bull-strong.
Keep skunks and bankers at a distance.
Life is simpler when you plow around the stump.
A bumble bee is considerably faster than a John Deere tractor.
Words that soak into your ears are whispered... not yelled.
Meanness don't just happen overnight.
Forgive your enemies; it messes up their heads.
Do not corner something that you know is meaner than you.
It don't take a very big person to carry a grudge.
You cannot unsay a cruel word.
Every path has a few puddles.
When you wallow with pigs, expect to get dirty.
The best sermons are lived, not preached.
Most of the stuff people worry about, ain't never gonna happen anyway.
Don't judge folks by their relatives.
Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.
Live a good and honorable life, then when you get older and think back, you'll enjoy it a second time.
Don't interfere with something' that ain't bothering you none.
Timing has a lot to do with the outcome of a rain dance.
If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop diggin'.
Sometimes you get, and sometimes you get got.
The biggest troublemaker you'll probably ever have to deal with, watches you from the mirror every morning'.
Always drink upstream from the herd.
Good judgment comes from experience, and a lotta that comes from bad judgment.
Lettin' the cat outta the bag is a whole lot easier than puttin' it back in.
If you get to thinking' you're a person of some influence, try ordering' somebody else's dog around.
Live simply, love generously, care deeply, speak kindly, and enjoy the ride.
Don't pick a fight with an old man. If he is too old to fight, he'll just shoot you!
.
Reverend Ole was the pastor of the local Norwegian Lutheran Church, and Pastor Sven was the minister of the Swedish Covenant Church across the road.
I saw them yesterday standing by the road, pounding a sign into the ground, that reads:
"Da End iss Near!
Turn Yourself Aroundt Now!
Before It's Too Late!"
As a car sped past them, the driver leaned out his window and yelled, "Leave us alone, you religious nuts!"
From the curve we heard screeching tires and a big splash...
Rev. Ole turns to Pastor Sven and asks, "Do ya tink maybe da sign should yust say 'Da Bridge is Out'?" 😜
I found this interesting article on the Next Avenue website. It bodes the question of just what makes us retire and/or if we're just too pooped to participate.
Downshifting From a Life in Overdrive:
Do we slow down because we retire? Or do we retire because we slow down?
By Jill Smolowe April 29, 2019
Credit: Michael Coghlan | Flickr
Do you think that when we slow down, it’s because we’re aging or because the nature of retired life demands less of us?
I ask because, as I near 64, I look with a mix of wonder and bewilderment at the politicians, judges and entertainers who are more than a decade older than I and going full-tilt at their careers. Where do they get their energy? Are they aberrations? Or do their demanding jobs keep them young?
I ask because, as I approach retirement, I see indications of slow-down. I can’t tell if what I’m experiencing (common things like short-term memory loss, diminishing energy reserves, earlier bedtime) is a natural byproduct of aging or if it’s the unintended side effect of stepping away from the fast-paced life of a demanding job.
Am I, in other words, slowing down because I’m moving toward retirement? Or am I moving toward retirement because I’m slowing down?
It’s not that I can’t stay at my desk and crank out copy when an editor needs it. (Nothing like a deadline to focus your attention and energy.) But most days there are no deadlines beyond those I impose on my own writing projects. Unlike decades past, when nothing less than three to four hours of concentrated writing would satisfy me, I now feel sated after two hours of dedicated writing. Some days, I feel pretty drained, actually.
Is that because I’ve lost the habit of putting in long hours? If so, am I my own co-conspirator in my aging process, allowing changing habits to hasten the process? Or is this slow-down driven by biology, a natural part of the aging process that’s demanding I slow my pace, whether I like it or not?
Certainly, my disinclination to put in long hours — let alone late hours — supports my sense that I would not relish a full-time workload at this point in my life. I like my less-jammed, roomier schedule. I like having the ability to choose what kinds of work, paid or volunteer, I take on. I likehaving the opportunity to explore activities that I haven’t investigated before.
I don’t, however, like days when I have little on my calendar.
Granted, many of these are weekend days, but given the absence of a regular workweek, it makes little difference to me if it’s a Tuesday or a Sunday. Where once such an abundance of unstructured time would have filled me with joy, now it sometimes drags on me — a weight that makes me wonder if, by leaving the regular workforce, I’m accelerating my aging.
A Checklist of InterestsCertainly, I’ve made efforts to fill the expanded free time with worthwhile and satisfying endeavors. In addition to getting certified as a life coach in order to launch a post-retirement, part-time career as a grief and divorce coach, I’ve been proactive about developing the sorts of interests that retirees are encouraged to explore.
Volunteer work? Check. (I’m a crisis counselor on the Crisis Text Line, a 24/7 hotline that offers support to people of all ages in all 50 states.)
Exercise? Check. (I attend Pilates classes four, sometimes five times a week. I think I’m actually more fit now than I was in my thirties when I was lucky if I could squeeze in a lunchtime yoga class once a week.)
Creative activity? Check. (Took a drawing class. Not my cup of creativity. It probably didn’t help that my drawings looked worthy of a fourth grader. I also dove into coloring for several months. Not quite sure why I’ve let that one slide. Maybe I tired of all those mandalas.)
Soul enrichment? Check. (Been meditating for two years now. More days than not, I put in 15 minutes on the proverbial cushion; once a week, I participate in an hour-long sit with a group.)
Friends? Check. (In addition to maintaining old relationships, I’ve nurtured new ones, among them my meditation and Pilates buddies.)
Grandchildren? (Not yet, and none in sight. But my husband and I did get a puppy recently. Very entertaining. The dog, that is; not the pee and poop accidents.)
All of this is supplemented by activities that I hope will help keep my brain cells active and healthy. I listen to lots of thoughtful podcasts (a substitute, of sorts, for the interesting office conversations about international and domestic issues I used to enjoy with fellow journalists). I play a few online games that challenge my speed, logic and vocabulary. (Also, hey, they’re fun.)
And I read. A lot. Novels. Memoirs. Nonfiction. As for my news diet, I swear I consume more newspaper, magazine and online articles now than I did when I was a working journalist. I’d like to believe the time I’m putting in is not only well invested, but a reflection of the times we’re living in. (All the truths I held to be self-evident while earning a BA in politics back in the ’70s are now being tested so rigorously that I sometimes feel like I’m earning another degree, this time at the Ph.D level.)
The Value of ‘Intentional Idleness’But then I remember a friend’s father from childhood days, one who seemed older than most of the other dads. Didn’t matter what time of day I showed up to play with my friend, there was her father, reading The New York Times in the living room. I remember thinking: Doesn’t he have anything else to do?
Don’t I?
I ask because, as I move closer to retirement, I look at those septuagenarian and octogenarian politicians, judges and entertainers, and I wonder: Are they doing it right? Am I doing it wrong? Did The Beatles throw down a false marker on this “when I’m 64” business?
Then I think about what those elders’ days must be. All that running around. All that doing what they’ve been doing for the last several decades. Do I really want to keep tilting in the same direction I always have? Where’s the learning curve in that?
I have a meditation friend who speaks of “intentional idleness.” He encourages people to let go of so much busyness and slow the pace. Only when we’re not rushing through our days, he says, can we create space for the new to arise.
I like the sound of that.
Repost I believe!
Old Age is a Gift - I Have Decided
I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be. Oh, not my body! I sometime despair over my body - the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the sagging butt. And often I am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror, but I don't agonize over those things for long.
I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly. As I've aged, I've become more kind to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend. I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need, but looks so avant-garde on my patio. I am entitled to overeat, to be messy, to be extravagant. I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.
Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 am, and sleep until noon? I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60's, and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love.. I will I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the bikini set. They, too, will get old!
I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten, and I eventually remember the important things.
Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when a beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.
I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turn gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver. I can say 'no', and mean it. I can say 'yes', and mean it
As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong
So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day
Today, I wish you a day of ordinary miracles.
Author: Unknown
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