Driving our 9 hour drive to visit family can be an ordeal. So we listen to books on tape (usually Harry Potter) and mixed it up with a little Bill Cosby standup and Brian Regan standup. LOVE them both.
Now, I must admit that I am silly by nature. Well, I'm a lot of things by nature, actually. What I'm trying to say is that I am easily entertained, in that I laugh easily.
I've heard the same comedy routines over and over. The Brian Regan one we were listening to I have heard at least 12 times in the last few months (Big Boy loves that routine). Yeah, I still laugh at everything. And hard.
I was drinking my new 'blueberry pomegranate Propel' (yum) and laughed so hard I had to grab Baby Boy's onesie which had been in my purse (that's another story, but it's not interesting, so I'll just leave it) and mop up the drool that had seeped down my chin...and shirt... Don't judge me. I know I'm not the most elegant woman out there. Sheesh.
Now, here's my bad: I made a mistake and said, (however jokingly) 'oh my gosh, i am such a dork. no wonder you don't like me anymore!'
Beloved didn't like that and said "don't say that!"
I feel like I need to tell you that I didn't like that I said that. I have really begun to like me for me lately. And you know what, I like that I'm a huge dork about certain things. I like that I laugh like I've never heard the joke before. I like that when I watch a movie I forget that it isn't real and that I've seen it several times before and still say something like, "No, don't let her die! Beloved! Don't let her die!" and he (used to) lovingly remind me that she's going to die, but it'll be ok in the end. Yes, I am a dork. I admit it. But, you know what? I like that quirkiness about me. So there.
Oh, but I digress, my dears.
What made me pull out my notepad and write this post while driving (while HE was driving...just in case you were worried) was this:
When his heart was mine--not even so very long ago--if I laughed as hard as I did in the car (with or without the drooling) Beloved would have laughed along, usually harder because I was already laughing, and then sigh a long sigh and say, "Aw, honey, I love your laugh."
Seriously. We were that kind of sick and in love and schmoopy. We always said things like that.
It's just a little something that reminds me--heck, there are probably dozens of things daily that tell me--his heart is not here.
I hate it.
I am selfish and I say, "Damnit, his heart belongs to ME!"
I will say, though, that later we had a good laugh, and the kids couldn't get us to answer them because we had got each other laughing so hard over beefaroni at a fancy restaurant. (brian regan, again). And in those moments, it's good and bad at once, because we feel like us for just a few minutes, seconds, whatever. And then we go back to being who we are right now.
On a lighter note, How many of you did a search for Tony Danza? ; )
Twelve Days of Boots: Day 9 by The Pioneer Woman
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