Ukrainian women:

An elderly Ukrainian man lay dying in his bed. While suffering the agonies of 
impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite perogi with 
fried onions wafting up the stairs.


 
He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself from the bed. Gripping 
the railing with both hands, he crawled downstairs.

Downstairs, he leaned against the door frame, gazing into the kitchen, where 
if not for death's agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven, for there, 
spread out upon waxed paper on the kitchen table were hundreds of his favorite perogi.
  
Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of love from his wife of sixty years, seeing 
to it that he left this world a happy man?

He threw himself towards the table, landing on his knees in a crumpled posture. His 
parched lips parted, the wondrous taste of the perogi was already in his mouth. With 
a trembling hand he reached up to the edge of the table, when suddenly he was smacked with a wooden spoon by his wife. 
'Fuck off!' she said. 'Those are for the funeral.'