So Sid and Gladys are sitting in the sunroom at the nursing home, and Gladys says to Sid: "I bet I can guess your age."
Sid says, "What?" (He's a bit hard of hearing, is Sid.)
Gladys says, "I CAN GUESS YOUR AGE. Been reading about it in a book. I'll bet you fifty dollars I can guess your age."
"Fifty dollars? OK, you're on, go ahead."
Gladys says, "All right, first you have to stand up."
Sid says, "What kind of pup?"
Gladys shouts, "STAND UP!" So he does. "Now, turn around."
"What?"
"You heard me. Turn around...OK...now, drop your pants."
"WHAT???" Sid asks, hoping he heard wrong.
"I said drop your pants. Hey, 50 bucks isn't chopped liver. I have to do this right."
"You've gotta be kidding."
"No, it's in the book. Go ahead and drop 'em."
Sid grumbles, but obliges. "Now turn around again."
More grumbling.
"Good. Now drop your shorts."
"Who's Dr. Schwartz?"
"No, no," says Gladys, loudly. "I said, drop your shorts!"
Sid stares at her, horrified.
"I AM NOT GOING TO DROP MY SHORTS IN PUBLIC!!!"
"Come on, Sid," Gladys wheedles, "if I'm wrong it's fifty bucks for you. Just humor me."
"Oh, all right," he says, turning even pinker than usual.
"There, that's fine...now, turn around again...go, on, just do it."
"OK, are you satisfied?"
"Great. Let me see...you're...uh...you're...eighty-seven."
Sid is amazed. "That's exactly right! How did you know?"
Gladys looks at him over her trifocals, and smiles sweetly.
"You told me yesterday."

Lots of healing energy here in the islands, Rick, and it's being channeled your way.

Aloha,
Mark