Monday, February 26, 2007
Sunshine and Laughter
Another weekend flew by. Every Sunday night, I kiss my sweet husband goodnight, and thank him for a "nice weekend". This time I commented, "didn't it just fly by?" He said, "it REALLY went fast." Which is just fine up here in the northeast, where we're trying to hang on til spring shows up. Daffodils are poking their heads up through dirty snow, I see robins here and there, and the air does have a different feel to it. We're just not there yet. So fast is fine with us.

What struck me most about this weekend was how much we laughed. Just Don and me. We started with dinner out after Saturday evening church. It ended with sharing a piece of tiramasu and coffee, and laughter. The kind that possibly irritates others sitting nearby.

We spent Sunday afternoon running mundane errands. Somewhere in the middle of it all, we found ourselves listening to oldies on Sirrius radio. Names of one-hit singers would come up on the dash, and we'd talk of where they might be now. And really, Linda Rondstadt? She was wonderful and where did she slink off to? And no, I never really liked Stevie Wonder either. Something possessed me, driving down the road, to do an imitation of Stevie, swinging his dreadlocks. It cracked my husband up. (I did only keep my eyes shut for a minute so as not to crash.) We talked about the Beatles, and the fact that I had the biggest crush on Paul, like every other female in America, but really George's music was the best, and John was just TOO weird, then he got even more weird by marrying someone named Yoko for pete's sake, and Ringo? Well, he wasn't really anyone's favorite that I knew of. But then, I didn't hang out with the girls who fought and pulled hair on the lawn, after school. THOSE were the girls who liked Ringo.

That brought up the two times I did pantomines in 9th grade speech class. One was to "Downtown" and the other was "Wedding Bell Blues?" by the 5th Dimension, which sounded close to, but not exactly like Marilyn Macoo singing. Every single line is still embedded in my brain, 38 years later. I got A's for both 'performances', as I like to think of them. The real crowning glory was when I played the reluctant hillybilly groom in the play, "Itchin' to Get Hitched". It didn't do much to promote voting me Homecoming Queen a few years later, or even getting asked to the dance, actually. I do think the teacher was nicer to me after that, out of respect for the passing of any chance at me ever being seen as "cool". If there was even a brief moment when that was possible, it died there on the stage, in 9th grade.

Then we chatted about who the guest judges would be on American Idol this year. Jon Bon Jovi - okay, but Lulu? Don went into a discussion of just exactly how old is Lulu, for pete's sake, and did she have any other hit except 'To Sir With Love'?, and does that qualify her to tell these wannabe singers how to strut their stuff. Sometimes laughter is just contagious. Nothing has to be really funny, but you've gotten into that frame of mind, and everything strikes you that way. Pulling up in the driveup of Dairy Queen, ordering SMALL blizzards, because we will be wearing swimsuits before God and everybody in 26 days, but who's counting, and if the blizzards are accidentally made as LARGES, do those extra calories exist or count? Naahhh... And of course, honey, I can drive and eat a blizzard, and if it scares you, then just don't look. I've got my left elbow propped just so on the steering wheel, and I'll keep my eyes open this time.

At the end of the evening, crawling into bed, what struck me was how much we laughed all weekend long. Nothing big - just the chitchat of life between two people who are comfortable together and truly enjoy each other's company. Someone who finds you hysterical, when you're likely really just mildly amusing. That is something to treasure, after almost 26 years.

We WERE funnier than the Oscars. I promise. Maybe they'll ask Don and me to host next year, and we can do a pantomine. Or a scene from my play. I finally was able to play "Bill" here, so feel free to sing along, roll the windows down, and do the 'shakin' dreadlocks imitation'. It's a lot more fun that way.


  posted at 7:52 AM

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    Girl Raised in the South

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