Leaving Las Mansion

By the time you read this, I will be well on my way to a casino. All
work and no play make Hillbilly Mom a dull gal. I hope HH will be
able to take care of the Mansion and the offspring this weekend.
I am a bit concerned.

Driving to meet HH for supper Friday night, we saw a man burning
leaves in his yard. "See that, boys? I saw a man doing that when I
drove through the state park last week. Remember, the day the wind
was 50 mph? He had about 5 fires like that in his front yard."

"Oh," said #1 son. "That is what Dad wants to do at home--burn off
the grass in the yard so that it will grow back thicker."

I did not like the sound of this idea. "Well, he did burn it one year.
He'd let it grow too high, and after it turned all brown, he lit it and let
it burn. He said the cats laid down at the edge, and ate the mice as
they ran out."

"You mean the field out front. He's talking about the actual yard now."

"When your house is made of wood, that's not such a good idea. We
have cedar siding."

"Dad says the bottom three feet of the house are concrete, and it
won't be able to catch on fire. He said all we have to do is spray the
porch with the hose."

"Doesn't sound like a good plan to me. He'll burn the house down."

"Oh, for a price, you can hire someone to do it for you."

"Ha! I'm not paying anyone for that. I can light a match my own self,
by cracky! What are we, idiots? I think we are capable of burning
our own house down. We don't have to pay anyone else to do it."

"I'm just telling you what Dad said."

"Can't we just go back to his plan to mine copper out of the back yard?"

****************************************************

And since I will be gone until Sunday night, I will leave you with a
little joke.

A man lay dying in the upstairs bedroom of his home. He had been
in a coma for a few days now. His grandson sat next to the bed to
keep him company.

Suddenly, the old man sat straight up in bed. "I thought I must have
died and gone to Heaven. I could swear I smelled your grandmother's
delicious strudel."

"It's OK, Grandpa. You are right here at home. Grandmother is down
in the kitchen, baking strudel. That is how you smelled it."

"Will you please go down and get me a piece of your grandmother's
delicious strudel?" asked the old man. "I fear that I may never have a
chance to taste it again."

"All right, Grandpa. I'll go ask. I'll be right back."

The boy returned. "Did you bring me some of your grandmother's
delicious strudel?" asked the old man.

"I'm sorry, Grandpa. Grandmother says it is for the funeral."