At breakfast one day, I eagerly waited for my husband to comment on my first attempt at homemade cinnamon rolls.
After several minutes with no reaction, I asked, “If I baked these commercially, how much do you think I could get for one of them?”
Without looking up from his paper my husband replied, “About 10 years.”
As the regiment moved out, the crowd cheered. One soldier asked another, “Who are all those cheering people?”
The veteran answered, “They’re the ones who aren’t going.”
As a trail guide in a national park, Danny ate with the rest of the seasonal staff in a rustic dining hall, where the food left something to be desired. When they were finished with their meals, they scraped the remains into a garbage pail and stacked the plates for the dishwasher.