Lena and Ole joke from ND . . .
Ole is laying bed, dying. Almost at death's door. His friend Sven comes by to look in on his friend. Ole greeted him, and as they were talking, Ole said he must be hallucinating since he smelled lefse cooking. Sven said "No Ole, Lena's downstairs cooking up a batch." Ole said "I'd love to meet St. Peter at the Gates with lefse in my mouth.
So, painfully, Ole gets out of bed, with Sven's help, and hobbles slowly down the stairs, one step at a time, pausing for Ole to catch his breath, and rest. After many long minutes, Sven helps Ole off the last step and into the kitchen. There, Ole's eyes were greeted with his wife Lena scurrying about, and the sight of lefse everywhere and the kitchen a heaven of its own scents of lefse cooking.
Ole slowly realizes what he is seeing, and slowly, painfully reaches out his hand to take a piece of lefse, as a smile of anticipation crawls across his face. At that, Lena whirls, whacks him on the wrist with a wooden spoon, and sternly tells him:
"No, those are for the funeral!"