Lordsburg High School
Historic preservation

Southern New Mexico
A Mecca for the Adventurous

Five join Space Hall of Fame

Fort Bayard
Happy 149th birthday

Growing Our Roots
The resurgence of herbalism

Every Hero has a Story
Library welcomes heroes

Heritage Days
Rodeo event focuses on the dig

Seventy Years Ago
Birthplace of the A-Bomb and Nuclear New Mexico

Downwinders Speak
Cancer culture in the shadow of the bomb


Mud Pies
Map Exhibit
Trout Fishing in the Gila
Truth Returns
Field School
Wine and Nuts

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Editor's Notebook
Desert Diary
Southwest Gardening
Cycles of Life
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The Starry Dome
Talking Horses

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40 Days & 40 Nights

Red or Green

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Body, Mind
& Spirit

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About the cover



Couple Trouble

Partnership can be tricky … and funny

Senior romance

A Charlie shares a toothy tidbit.

An older couple were lying in bed one night. The husband was falling asleep but the wife was in a romantic mood and wanted to talk.

She said: “You used to hold my hand when we were courting.”

Wearily he reached across, held her hand for a second and tried to get back to sleep.

A few moments later she said: “Then you used to kiss me.” Mildly irritated, he reached across, gave her a peck on the cheek and settled down to sleep. Thirty seconds later she said: “Then you used to bite my neck.”

Angrily, he threw back the bed clothes and got out of bed. “Where are you going?” she asked. “To get my teeth!”

Time and circumstance

Listening to his wife always leads Jim Duchene back to his dad.

I’ve said it before, and I don’t mind saying it again: My wife’s a saint. So when she runs into the kitchen worried about my father, I have to listen, even though I’m in the middle of reading the Sports Section of our

city’s fine newspaper and drinking a nice hot cup of gourmet coffee, my only indulgence. “Your dad,” she says, breathlessly. “What about my dad?” I ask, when she doesn’t go past her initial proclamation. I can see that she’s having a problem putting it into words. Thinking about it, I come to realize that it’s a little later than my father’s usual early-to-bed-early-to-rise time. Thinking about it some more, I begin to get a little worried myself. “Is he... uh... alive?” I ask her. They weren’t words I wanted to say, but they were words that had to be said. “Yes,” she answers, “he’s alive, but...” Even though I asked the question, deep down I knew my father wasn’t really dead. If he had been, my wife wouldn’t have been worried, she would have been hysterical. As ornery and cantankerous as my father is, the alternative, while eventually unavoidable, is not something we look forward to. “But what?” I say, encouraging her on. “Well,” she begins, slowly explaining, “when he didn’t get up for breakfast this morning, I thought I’d check in on him, and...” She’s right.

By this time of the morning he’s had a full breakfast, a slice of pie, and is busy keeping the newspaper away from me.

“And what?”

“And he says he’s dead.”

“Dead?” I say, although it’s more of an exclamation than a question. My father gets plenty of attention from his daughter-in-law, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, but it’s never stopped him from trying to get more. Still, saying he’s dead.... That’s a bit of a stretch. Even for my father.

I really don’t want to go check on my father, even though I know I have to, because I don’t know what kind of nonsense he’ll get me into, but I go. My father no longer lives in the father-in-law house in the front of our property. Time and circumstance stuck its ugly nose into my business and he’s moved into the main house and has his own room with us. When I’ve talked to my wife about renting out the little house, my dad, like time and circumstance, sticks in his nose and vetoes the idea.

“Why, dad?” I’ve asked him. “Because I might want to move back in,” he’s answered, even though the two of us both know that that will never happen. My father is no longer independent, but it’s important for him to thinks that he still is. I knock.

He tells me to come in. I say that my lovely wife – his daughter-in-law – tells me that he’s saying he’s dead.

“That’s right,” my father answers. “I’m dead.”

“What makes you think you’re dead?”

“I must be dead,” he insists. “When I woke up this morning, nothing hurt.”


Stress reduction can save your life

Geerichard shares a little story about crossing boundries:

A gent went to the doctors to see if he could reduce his stress level. His wife went along. After a thorough exam, he was getting dressed while his wife was out talking to the doctor.

The doctor told the wife, “Your husband is suffering from a very severe stress disorder. If you don’t do the following, he will surely die. Each morning, fix him a healthy breakfast. Be pleasant at all times. For lunch, make him a nutritious meal. Provide some fun things to do. For dinner, prepare an especially nice meal.

“No chores. No nagging. Oh, yes, and make love several times a week. Do this for the next year and he’ll regain his health completely!”

All dressed, the gent came out. As the couple were walking to the car, he asked what the doctor said.

A bit hesitant, she finally blurted out, “You’re going to die.”

The man who gave up sex for golf

Jerry the Joker talks about making deals:

A golfer is in a competitive match with a friend, who is ahead by a couple of strokes. “Boy, I’d give anything to sink this putt,” the golfer mumbles to himself.

Just then, a stranger walks up beside him and whispers, “Would you be willing to give up one-fourth of your sex life?”

Thinking the man is crazy and his answer will be meaningless, the golfer also feels that maybe this is a good omen, so he says, “Sure,” and sinks the putt.

Two holes later, he mumbles to himself again, “Gee, I sure would like to get an eagle.”

The same stranger is at his side again and whispers, “Would it be worth giving up another fourth of your sex life?”

Shrugging, the golfer replies, “Okay.” And he makes an eagle.

On the final hole, the golfer needs another eagle to win. Without waiting for him to say anything, the stranger quickly moves to his side and says, “Would winning this match be worth giving up the rest of your sex life?”

“Definitely,” the golfer replies, and he makes the eagle.

As the golfer is walking to the club house, the stranger walks alongside him and says, “I haven’t really been fair with you because you don’t know who I am. I’m Satan, and from this day forward you will have no sex life.”

“Nice to meet you,” the golfer replies, “I’m Father O’Malley.”

How to start a fight

Finally, Jerry the joker has a whole list of ways to start a fight with his wife:

  • One year, I decided to buy my mother-in-law a cemetery plot as a Christmas gift. The next year, I didn’t buy her a gift. When she asked me why, I replied, “Well, you still haven’t used the gift I bought you last year!” And that’s how the fight started...

  • My wife and I were watching Who Wants to Be a Millionaire while we were in bed. I turned to her and said, “Do you want to have sex?” “No,” she answered. I then said, “Is that your final answer?” She didn’t even look at me this time, simply say ing, “Yes.” So I said, “Then I’d like to phone a friend.” And that’s when the fight started...

  • I took my wife to a restaurant. The waiter, for some reason, took my order first. “I’ll have the rump steak, rare, please.” He said, “Aren’t you worried about the mad cow?” “Nah, she can order for herself.” And that’s when the fight started...


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