GK: --after a word from the Catchup Advisory Board.
TR: These are the good years for Barb and me. The dry cleaner destroyed my tuxedo and now I don't have to go to the benefit for the arts center. With the money we're saving, we went to a medical spa for chemical peels to make our skin look young and now we look like 25-year-olds who've had a really hard life. We did all our winterizing with duct tape and I used Barb's plaid golf shorts as insulation under the door to the breezeway. And I convinced her to give her souvenir sweatshirts to the poor people of South America. And then the other day I came in the house to find Barb painting the kitchen bright yellow. What's going on?
SS: Don't you like it?
TR: It's kind of bright.
SS: It makes me happy.
TR: If your urine was that color, they'd run you right in for tests. It just strikes me as a little---- vivid.
SS: I need some visual stimulation in the winter, Jim. I think I suffer from Short Afternoon Disorder.
TR: You're depressed----?
SS: I don't know. It's hard to tell. I read about the symptoms of depression and to me it just sounds like a description of somebody from Minnesota.
TR: I was reading about a deal they offer in San Diego, Barb. It's a marriage retreat.
SS: I don't know if our marriage can stand any more retreat, Jim.
TR: You go to San Diego to a resort and you sit in a hot tub and paint each other with body paint and talk about your journey together. Plus there's 36 holes of golf.
SS: But can we afford it? Our stock portfolio lost about half its value, Jim.
TR: As soon as the President's tax cuts take hold, the economy is going to come bounding right back, Barb.
SS: Really?
TR: Really. What do you say we paint the kitchen a nice soft red. The color of ketchup.
RD: (SINGS) Life is laughter and beautiful ideas.
A smile on the faces of friends happy to see us,
Flowing like ketchup on your quesadillas.
GK: Ketchup. For the good times.
RD: (SINGS) Ketchup--ketchup.