Dear Ann Landers, esterday, I looked out of my kitchen window and could have sworn I saw an old cow across the way, munching grass between two houses. I was just about to shout to my husband and tell him a cow had wandered out of the pasture and to go put her back in. Thank heavens I was interrupted by a phone call. After a second look out the window, I discovered the "cow" was my mother-in-law wearing saddle pants. Three weeks ago, I was frightened by the sight of a tramp hanging around the machine shed. It was dusk, and I quickly locked all the doors. A few minutes later, I saw my husband walking toward the tramp. When they embraced, I nearly fainted. The "tramp" was his mother. To put it bluntly, Ann, the woman looks so down at the heels that it makes me sick. She also scares the daylights out of me. My mother-in-law is 74 years old, has plenty of money to spend and is in good health. What can I do about this revolting situation? -Fargo, N.D.
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Dear Readers, , in excellent condition-price $50. He was certain the print-ers had made a typographical error, but even at $5,000 it would have been a bargain, so he hurried to the address to look at the car. A nice-looking woman appeared at the front door. Yes, she had placed the ad. The price was indeed $50. “The car,” she said, “is in the garage. Come and look at it.” The fellow was overwhelmed. It was a beautiful Porsche and, as the ad promised, “nearly new.” He asked if he could drive the car around the block. The woman said, “Of course,” and went with him. The Porsche drove like a dream. The young man peeled off $50 and handed it over, somewhat sheepishly. The woman gave him the neces-sary papers, and the car was his. Finally, the new owner couldn’t stand it any longer. He had to know why the woman was selling the Porsche at such a ridiculously low price. Her reply was simple: With a half-smile on her face, she said, “My husband ran off with his secretary a few days ago and left a note instructing me to sell the car and the house, and send him the money.” -Still Laughing in Wilmette
