Sometimes I crave the kind of belly laugh that comes so hard, fast, and long that it makes me hurt. The cathartic effects are kinda-sorta like a good orgasmâ€¦I feel weak, happy, released.
But those darn giggle-fests are difficult to come by. (And, itâ€™s none of your business about the other!)
This past week my hubby and I were driving to an appointment. As we collected miles on the odometer we talked about an acquaintance that is going to spend a few days in Door County, Wisconsin. Our conversation went something like this:
Me: Have you ever spent time in Door County?
He: Yes. Itâ€™s very tourist-geared. Â And it is also the origin of a moment my sons could not let me forget.
Me: Okay; now you have to tell me about it.
He: This was years ago. We did a bunch of the tourist stuff, and then my sons and I went fishing for salmon.
Me: Really? I think of cherries and Door County. Not salmon.
He: Anywayâ€¦we had caught and pulled in a fairly large salmon which was flopping around in the boat. Our guide handed me a baseball bat and told me to â€˜put it out of its misery.â€™
Me: Ew! That just seems cruel.
He: Yeah, well. I grabbed the bat, raised it above my head, swung down, and ended up essentially love-tapping the fish on the nose. The boys were laughing so hard they could barely choke out, â€œKill it, Dad! Donâ€™t â€˜boopâ€™ it!
(At this point my husband mini-reenacted the moment.)
I saw it so clearly in my mind that I began having one of my canâ€™t stop laughing moments. It felt soooo good! My sweet husband just isnâ€™t capable of bashing a fish in the head. Booping a fish? Sure.
I love my kind-hearted husband. I love that he makes me laugh until I cry. I love that we still find untold stories that illuminate and affirm our core personalities.
My guy? Â The best part of my day.
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