re: A little bit about writing, specifically: What grammar had to say. LOL

 

Aloha Bruce of the immaculate positioning of words, and punctuation,

 What a fun read. Period. Don’t you just love it, when the word, and the punctuation mark – agree?!

  Here, in my own words, with my own idea of grammatically correct sentence structure; is a brief history of punctuation.  Before I begin, however, let me say that writing in a formal setting, like a Corporate report, legal brief, or Thesis, should- and often does- hold itself to a higher standard. One that cannot, in most cases, be read, or understood, by the average reader. Notice my use of the “oxford comma” in that last sentence. Nowadays, which, by the way, was NOT a word when I was a child, most folks in common usage, skip the comma. In fact, the average sentence now days, has only five words. And in a paragraph, there may only be five punctuation marks, and all of them periods. LOL

  So let us go back to the Original Greek, Latin, Sanskrit, Germanic, French, and Anglo-Saxon, that make up the majority of our language. English is a hybrid, and fairly new. The first King of England to speak it as his native tongue, I believe, was Henry the VI…so even in its native country, it wasn’t a native language. It was, in fact, the language of commoners. Beneath the language of Royalty and Educated folk of the time. Let us go back even before that, to the Romans, and Greeks. They had no punctuation. In fact, in Latin, one of the problems is pronouns, plurals, and adjectives, as you well know. It is why there are so many “Translations” of Latin and Greek texts…nobody knows how close we really are to what they meant.

  The next point I would like to bring up, is ALL punctuation, is so that the reader could know when to breathe. Yep. That’s all. Back in the day, the town crier would have to read aloud, since most folk couldn’t read at all. And a sentence like this with no stops pauses or anything to let the reader know that another subject was coming up in just a moment or a new sentence or a new subject made it incredibly difficult to pinpoint the message and make it understandable to the human ear as we pause to take a breath in these sentences they didn’t know where or when to stop. Add to that, they didn’t leave any spaces between words! Which, come to think of it, makes the space between words, the first punctuation! Pretty cool.

  Well, do you come to a full stop, and let people digest what you just said, or are you taking a breathing pause? Hence, the period in the first case, and the comma in the latter. But wait! There are more problems, which you alluded to in your lovely letter. Languages. Yep. English is a bastard. We have so many parents that even our spelling is subject to the rules of another language. If it has a “u” in say “colour”, it is wrong here, perfect in England. If it has an ent ending, or ant…it is French, and must agree with their rules of grammar, if it has a “us”, or “a” at the end, it is Latin…and so on. So, to write English properly, you technically should call it :”Grammars.” Hence the subject bar. LOL

You also brought up another salient point: does your writing communicate what you thought you said? Sometimes grammar obfuscates the story, as does jargon. Writing is just organized speech, and therefore should convey what you wanted to say, or tell, the other person. Grammar , in most cases, insures that the message sent, was the one received. If grammar inhibits the story from being told, then it hinders communication. Grammarians, hate adverbs, most of us ordinary people, sadly, use them well,usually. LOL

  In the old days, the Nuns would have given Einstein an “F” for they way he wrote his: “Special Theory of Relativity.” Content, falls secondary to structure. When that happens, you lose the story. The communication. “He died.” Is a perfect sentence. Quotations, with the punctuation inside. Yet it isn’t enough. So (and starting the sentence with a preposition is a no no- yet, it makes the conversation flow) if one were to write: “He died horribly.” Again, the punctuation is correct, but a grammarian would argue over the adverb. Yet, the reader would be piqued, and want more detail: “He died horribly from repeated blows of Strunk and White’s: “Elements of Style,” in hardback.”

   I think grammar, like language, is in a flux right now. I agree with you, that grammar is a dying skill set amongst the general population. It ( See that? I should have used “grammar” and not “it”, as to make the subject perfectly clear, instead of assuming the reader knows what “it” means in the sentence. LOL)  also does play a major part in upward mobility, especially in the board rooms of America, and across the globe.

  Yet, I still hold to the belief, that good writing, even great writing, communicates the author’s story to the reader. Bad writing, simply loses the story line, and makes the reader question why he ever read the damn thing. Our friend Kevin Kearne- has immaculate grammatical structure, and his books have holes the size of the Hoover Dam in them. Nothing “wrong” with the writing- as far as grammar goes; lots wrong as far as telling a believable story goes.

  As we have discussed before, I think you need a story, good characters, the gift of dialogue, plot, and interest , to move a reader, and, of course- good grammar.

 Smiles, Kevin of the lowbrow

 

Re: I love you. How many times can you say that, to how many people, and mean it? I , for one, have changed my mind. True love is rare.

When I was younger, I thought that you could learn to love anyone, given enough time, enough in common, and close environs. Now, some sixty years on in life, I have changed my mind. True love, Romantic/Lasting/Deep love, is rare. It does take time, chemistry, and experiences, both bad, and good, to cement the foundation of love, to the scaffolding of life, and time. I have said: I love you, to two women in my life. Kathy , has been in my life for 34 years. Had she left after two years, I would have still loved her, I just wouldn’t have been with her anymore. My first love, well, is the reason I had a second love, I learned how to love.

Most chemistry type loves, end rather quickly, as soon as the passion wears off, it is over. Other loves fade once the kids come, or the careers come, or change comes. Think back to your “best friends” , a prerequisite for true love , by the way. If the one you love, isn’t also one of your best friends, your love is fragile, no matter how long it has lasted. Brittle. It can shatter in a moment. Without that best friendship, love is strong, but not flexible. So how many of you even have a best friend? Not a recent friend, not a work friend, not a church friend, but a friend , more than that, a best friend. One who knows all about you and likes you anyway. Not many of us have lifetime friends. They tend to be situational, locational, or occupational. Not best friends, they stay that way for life. If you haven’t seen them in 15 years, and you sit down to talk, it is like no time has passed since you last saw each other. That is how powerful best friendships are…the physics of time, space and duration, do not apply. I have a best friend. I have had him for more than 50 years. My wife IS my best friend, and I love her romantically too. I was given two loves in my life. A very lucky man. Some folks never even find one. And some, never even find a best friend. Some lucky people have two, or even three…after that, the circle of intimacy is to wide to support true best friends, I think. Unless those friendships have all kinds of attachments and limitation.

I call my best friend once a week, and have for decades. We never run out of things to talk about, and both our spouses are amazed, as He is not a talker, and I don’t have many new stories. Yet, we talk. Yep. We have a blast, and when we hang up , our spouses say: “What did you two talk about?”  “Stuff.” We really don’t remember, or we have plausible deniability. LOL So how many friends do you have? How many would you consider Best Friends? I thought I had two best friends a couple decades back…until an unfortunate disagreement over War, of all things, ended it. When he came to visit, and that was the visit that ended our friendship, my daughter said something truly profound, and she was only a new teen at the time. Here is what she said:

“Dad, are you sure he is your best friend of eighteen years, or was he your best friend eighteen years ago?” It turned out to be the latter. Yet, the women I loved, I still love. My best friend, is still my best friend. I have five close friends, and two of them, in my mind, could easily grow into true Best friends. The only thing my five close friends have in common, is that they all like me, just the way I am. So, not counting family, and children, and in laws; I have three true best friends, five close friends, and many good friends. My inner circle is one, than two, than five. Almost a fibonacci sequence. LOL I couldn’t handle more , I don’t think. Not and give them the love, attention and time, necessary to build the friendship, or love, to the point where time, attention, and love are no longer necessary. They have formed a black hole, and once you enter that loving inner circle, you are there for ever.

Love is rare, loving is not. Embrace love in all its forms. Make friends, for you never know when they may get sucked into that inner circle that never lets go…and always loves. Peace. Kevin

Flash fiction…a line a minute. Yep. I set up a timer, and at the end of a minute…taa daa…done. So here are a few minutes worth. LOL

Oh he was focused all right, like the eyes of a teen age boy, on the first button being undone on his sweetheart’s blouse.

The earth wanted to ramble, he wanted to run, neither happened, they both fell.

She kissed him once, softly , slowly, and drank his ego in, a sip at a time… a moment later, there was no time.

The little girl held a flower, stymied, she didn’t know how to put it back in the ground…something whispered from her hair, and that is where the flower went…

He was a strong young boy, pulling a red wagon, it was uphill, and his red hair and freckles hinted at an Irish background, as did his stubborn little steps up the hill.

The gun rested lightly on the table, a small flame around it, the heated barrel had set the varnish on fire, she never noticed. What she saw were the five holes in his chest, staring back at her.

He let his arm find its way around her back, having no idea, it was her idea.

The two men wrestled in the water, neither of them gay, but very close friends, it was a straight male way of saying: “I love you buddy.”

As he pounded into her flesh, she made the right noises to keep both his member and his ego up, but to pass the time, she watched her hands talk to each other behind his back.

The sky screamed in pain, as the rock tore oxygen from its roots, soon, it would bring disaster on a scale unheard of in human history, and human history would remain, unheard.

She liked church, but not church people. She liked the Bible, but not Bible thumpers. She liked people who acted like Christians, but didn’t talk like Christians. Jesus would have loved her.

The car spun , twirled, rolled , and tumbled, and the last thoughts of the kids in the back seat were- if this were  a ride, it would be epic.

When their eyes met, it was a surprise to both of them, I mean really, shouldn’t your eyes stay in their sockets, so all of you can meet?

He would have been late , if had understood time at all, he didn’t, and therefore wasn’t.

Love is born in a moment, shared for a lifetime, and ended by nothing…except choice.

Well, there you go. A minute a line, and a minute to think while writing…it is fun to do this, give it a try! Smiles, Kevin

re: Off the Grid, and going fast…

I believe I shall be down to just email by my birthday. Perhaps, not even that. I guess I just need to talk, and that is becoming increasingly difficult.

I have discovered that the algorithms are more pervasive, invasive, and “intelligent” than I am. I can’t read a single story on the internet, without getting targeted adds sent to me, even in the middle of a story. I find searching for things , over time, to be more difficult, because the search engines “decide ” for me where to search. Because my wife’s friends at work, and her church friends, all tend to watch a certain News Channel, there  is an awful lot of horrible  stories and emotional polemics, plus a lot of shouting, and political shenanigans …and people (celebrity type) . All Kathy wants is to see posts by her family, and pictures of said family. Instead you have to scroll down through many post that are drivel…do you really think I care that you rolled over in bed, and the sheets got tangled” Or that you ate a bowl of cornflakes, putting an extra spoon of sugar in it, and now, well, you are having pangs of guilt?

I think it is time for me to remove myself from all this electronic filtering. My wife used to get her facts from a certain source, but because of the way the search engines respond to filtering, they filtered out any liberal friends, news, or stories…only because I was stupid enough to answer just three of the posts put up by her family and co workers…and that was enough to shift the adds, change the kinds of stories that show up on her page, or on my browser. I look up a pretty house …just to see it: boom ! Real estate adds clutter up my entire page, both sides, the top, even pop up boxes, and I have block pop up windows checked. LOL

My phone is pretty useless now, except as a camera, and to post instagrams for my kids. Since I no longer work, or seek work, no agents, comics, or clients call. It isn’t necessary anymore. I find out from another friend, that my movements, as long as my phone is on my person, are tracked. That when I call someone, or look up something, as many as 300 sites are tracking me- without my knowledge, or permission. That paranoia, is built in. LOL

Almost every conversation I have heard, or over heard…is directly related to some TV show, Reality Show, horrible headline, or they are simply looking down at their phones, or Ipads, or screens. I think moving so fast into the future, has become an addiction. We are busy , but not productive. We are fast, but going nowhere. We have more connections than ever, and few are connected, except at a very superficial level. A tweet, can be a major story, with millions of opinions within seconds, violent language, disgusting insults, slurs, are all common place in the comment section of any video, or on twitter.  I guess I was more lucky than I thought, to travel for a living, to be around people who were living their own lives, connecting with strangers, and avoiding TV, News, Newspapers, and Entertainment that wasn’t “live.” Where stories were personal, or fresh, or examples of differences without judging those very differences. Where a simple statement:”Oh, we don’t do it like that where I am from,” does not mean you should do it that way. It is a simple statement of fact, followed by: “Teach me your way.” Tolerance, of any one, any idea, or any thing is unacceptable, pick a side. Now.

Having the time to see the patterns, some of which I fell for, including the idea that if I google Belgium,  is the same as Being to Belgium, which a lot of folks can’t seem to tell; are different experiences. Where a single tweet, can make you famous, or infamous, in seconds. When it is over, in a nanosecond, the damage to the individual lasts their lifetime. A world of online trolls are relentless in their hate mongering, they moves on to the next “story”, never erasing that single moment of misjudgment , to be brought up years, or even decades later, it is as if all of  life, every moment -just happened.Now. This moment. Posted and permanent.  Even getting people to see when the webpage was posted, or the story updated seems to be to much effort. One guy quoted me some Health Statistics, he said they were accurate. I said they used to be. He gets out his Ipad to prove to me how good his sources are. It was a good source. In fact, at the time, it was a leading edge story…in 2003. Yep. He never noticed that on that entire page, only one “new” website/article had been posted in THIS decade. Some research is moving so fast, that by the time the paper is published, the research is out of date. LOL

I think, I may have to shift to reading again. I may even have lived long enough to read Oscar Wilde, in awe. LOL

Smiles, Kevin of the going back to paper soon.

In one word, the most powerful, and misunderstood human emotion. The one that makes relationships last, and people human: Just one word. Think about it, the tell me a story with it in it:

Kindness.

It isn’t the heat , it is the humidity. Yep.

 

Aloha Everyone,

 I wish I had taken pictures when we got back from our little bike ride. The air was “thick”, and the analogy of being covered with a “wet blanket” was invented on a day like today. Earlier it was “only” 89 Degrees (31.6 C) but because of the Humidity it felt like 100 Degrees! (37.7 C) and…it got hotter and muggier. If I had taken that picture, you would not have seen two human beings, you would have seen upright puddles covered in clothes. Or perhaps, we may have appeared to be two drowned rats. LOL

 We drank copious amounts of water on our ride, and when we got home, well, we drank almost as much water as Thor did in his little bet with Loki- although we didn’t have that famous horn connected to the sea, we did lower the sea levels of the Earth , I think. LOL Then we ate a small lunch, Kathy and I took showers. Not together. Those days are gone, there isn’t enough room in there for both of us! LOL Then, well, a small nap. Which turned into a longer nap. When we both awoke, we said: “Just ten more minutes.” Now, more than a hour later, I am awake and typing this, and Kathy is stirring a bit, no longer a drowned rat, but a cute little mouse nestled in the sheets.

  I am ravishingly hungry, and I am sure she will be. So, here is a weight loss plan…ride your bike in overwhelming humidity. Drink copious amounts of water. Then…nap. For most of the day, it is just to doggone hot to eat. When you finally get enough strength to eat, you will only nibble! I think a week or so of this, and you will be much thinner. Which means, those old romantic shower days, where your partner does your back, because if they do your front, the tub becomes a dangerous slippery place – LOL- may just be possible again. If your good knee, and your one hip, hold out. LOL Oh, and if you remember to put your teeth in.

 Kevin and Kathy, who can both testify: “It isn’t the heat, it is the humidity!)

 

re: A friend asked me: “Don’t you miss performing on stage?” And this is my reply:

 

 Onto performing…you know, I don’t miss it a bit. Not the way I thought I would. What I do miss,my friend, are a couple of things: meeting so many creative people, People with multiple talents (Like you) who see life- as an adventure. I hate the TV parrots who think being alive means knowing what reality star puked on her lover. LOL I have never owned a TV, and I am coming to hate them. The other thing I miss, is this: whenever we did a show: I mean every Entertainer I ever worked with, and myself, we affected people. For an hour, or ninety minutes, or a seven minute TV set, we brought people escape, or at least, a distraction. In your case, and most of the good acts, we actually helped people heal. We bring back memories, and usually good ones, or we make grief a little more tolerable, for just a few minutes, or even moments. How many times after a show, has someone told you:

” I haven’t had such a good time since my husband passed on.” Or,” I am fighting cancer, and tonight, watching your show, I felt great!”  Or,” You know, I wasn’t feeling that good, I am kinda depressed, well, for the hour you were on stage, man, I just dove into your world and surfed!”

   I miss that, my friend, that ability to move folks into another place for a bit. So they can find peace, or happiness, or escape, or entertainment, or just a momentary glimpse of a world outside their day to day routine. I think that is the most important part of our “job.”  We don’t need the validation, or accolades after a while (although, they always feel great to get) because we know we are good. Confidence comes from succeeding even when failing; we get that. We know we bring it , every time, even when it doesn’t work, the audience leaves knowing we left it all out there for them. Once you grow enough as a performer to realize – humbly- how good you are, it becomes about what we can give the audience, not what they can give us. And, that, my friend, is what I miss.

 If this email gets any longer, you will miss your flight!

Stay well, hugs from Kevin and Kathy

On Jul 7, 2014, at 6:08 PM, Greg Bonham wrote:

 

re: Hey how about this, marriage advice from a man, who is …well, married, and has been for a long luxurious time, to his Hero: Kathy

Okay, one of my friends sent me a couple of articles on marriage advice, mostly trying to get men to be what their women want them to be. And all of them skipping over the biology. So, here we go…and let the chips, and soda fall where they may.

First if your partner isn’t your best friend- good luck. Find some one you really really like, and learn to love them. If all you do is Love them, when the Love is over, it is over.

Second: Friendship and affection are the lifelong partnership builders, not love and sex. Now, loving, friendly, affectionate sex…is a great combination.

Third. Men, aren’t women, never will be, never wanted to be. I am sure women feel the same way, they want to be women, not men. I don’t know why we constantly ignore biology. It isn’t your destiny, but it doggone sure is a major player in how you feel, what your needs and wants are, and what things fill you with passion. A million years of evolution isn’t going to go away because you have an intellectual veneer that is less than one lifetime old.

Another note on this (in case Feminists – who have a major point or two to share, have their hackles up) if you are over the age of 15 , you have already figured out that smart people are exactly that. Strong people are strong people.  Kind people are kind people. You get the point, human traits don’t care about gender, on the other hand, women can have babies, men can’t. Period. Which, by the way, is another thing we don’t have. So, no, we don’t know how women “feel”, but if you live with a woman, you can learn when she needs your help, a kindness, a cuddle, or chocolate. Pay attention.

Fourth: If you get a place together, it is hers. You can pretend if you want, but look around, if you are a guy, anything you chose before she moved in, is now in the garage. If you are lucky enough to be a parent, and you have girls, get as many bathrooms as you can fit in your house! Believe me, a bathroom for every girl is not a luxury, and it will make life easier for all. LOL

Fifth: People change. Men and women are people. Ergo; you will change, both of you. If you aren’t aware of the changes, and adapt, you will be caught off guard when the papers come. Change does not mean you have to leave your partner. It just means the core is the same, but the outside has been added too, remodeled , or removed. Change is uncomfortable, awkward, sometimes painful. The analogy I use is puberty. When boys and girls are ten years old, they are almost the same creature…then, bam! Hormones. Five years later, it is hard to believe those cute little ten years old kids, have become young ladies and young men. By age twenty five or so, it is over. We are done with the plumbing and physical changes, and have become “adults”.  That decade of change was a powerful one, shaping our:  wants, ideas, bodies, and minds- so even with the aching joints, the need for sleep, the awkward moments, the cracking voices,  the new onset of periods, and dating- no one wants to go back to their prepubescent body.  Remember that when one of you changes as an Adult, and thinks your relationship has to end.

Last point; most of us don’t know what it is like to be five years older than we are now, and a decade older than you are now is beyond imagination. Aging, is coming. Yep. Some things will fade, some things will fail, or not work as well, other things will become more important to you. One of those things, is people. When you get older, you will support younger people in their dreams, and it won’t matter if it is your niece trying for a Basketball Scholarship to Connecticut, or your nephew hoping to start an interior design business. You will find yourself wishing success for each of them. At the end of the day, if you worked at your marriage, a project that never ends, not one time in your married life, can you sit back and say: “It is done.” Nope. It takes your input, your trust your love, and saves it all in an emotional bank account, so when the bad crap happens, you can withdraw some affection, or kindness, or forgiveness, and stay together.  At the end of the day, when you close your door to the outside world, the two of you can laugh, smile, and be glad you are together. We are.

Of the top 100 best books (not necessarily the 100 most popular-lol) I have read all but one. Ulysses – I struggle through it every time…Five thousand word sentences are hard on my memory!

 

Aloha Bruce of the Cliff Notes version…

 I have never finished Ulysses, I keep trying about every couple of years to get through it. So, here is my synopsis of the most challenging book – at least for me, to read. I know real writers are enthralled with it, but it wouldn’t make my top ten…then again, I am not a genius writer. LOL  So, here goes:

About all that book has in common with the Odyssey – is the travels of the different characters and how they interact in a single day. Unless you count old Mr. Bloom, as the central figure- who passes by the brothel (sirens) even though his friend gets his head kicked in, and his wife has an affair with his daughter’s manager, and his other friend gets beat up by a soldier, and he gets beat up for being Jewish.

 For a single day, there are a lot of pubs, and reading…a very Irish combination, especially when you add in the arguments. Of course, while old Molly is banging away with the Manager guy, old Bloom is writing letters to his lover (only through correspondence) under a fake name. He does masturbate to a woman who just keeps raising her skirt up to expose her legs- back then, that was both incredibly erotic and sensual, and masturbation was a good sex scene! LOL

It starts with the three guys, I think it was Buck, Steve and Haines, agreeing to meet later- Bloom is the guy that somehow touches all three during the day and night.

You can see I remember quite a bit of it, because I have tried almost every year of so to finish the damn thing…to no avail…I find it boring, peevish, and juvenile in many ways. That is looking back through time – maybe it is my more modern sentiments that cause me to not realize the full scope of infidelity, alcoholism, bigotry, and Nationalism, all of which he portrays.

  Having been weaned on good old Holden Caulfield in Catcher in the Rye…well, masturbation has no hold on my anymore. LOL

Kevin the unfinished reader…

 

Laughter is the best medicine. This is the story of real laughter, soul satisfying, life extending, pure undiluted laughter, from an ordinary conversation(s)

 

   Real laughter, soul refreshing, conscious clearing, stress busting, bent over double, fearless joy laughing, without a trace of hysteria (although it may sound like it to bystanders); real laughter comes from simple things. And today it came from a simple statement , a statement of fact, in fact. LOL

   We were at the Park, having just had a wonderful breakfast where I got to hold my newborn (8 days old) grandson, so my daughter could eat. I also got to play with my grand daughter a bit too. Then we all went to the park, the kids, the parents, and us grandparents. A grand visit it was. In fact, I have to write another email later, about two wonderful things that happened at the Park. But, that will have to wait, for this missive is about a truly bout of Real Laughter, so innocent, so fresh, so refreshing. I am chuckling yet again as I get ready to tell the tale.

   My Son (the in law part is just for accuracy in reporting, he is part of our family, and hence, our son too) and I were over by the swings, as little Penny was swinging with wild abandon. I reached up to the bar over the swing set, and just hung there for a few moments. Greg showed me how they do modern chin-ups, using that same bar. They use their whole body, in order to work the “core”. Then I grab the bar again, and just holding my arms straight, use my feet to climb up a pillar, until my back is parallel to the ground. I tell him that I like the climbing motion for two reason- one, I can do it. LOL

Two, I don’t want to get a gym body. You know the wide shoulders, narrow hip, six pack, with the perfectly cut and ripped body. I want a body sculpted by actual work, or play. So I told Greg again:

 “I have to be careful, because I don’t want a gym body.”

He looks at me for a second, in a perfectly calm tone of voice, and straight faced: “You don’t have to be careful, you don’t have a gym body. “

 I laughed so hard, I couldn’t breathe, I had to walk away about 20 feet, and I couldn’t stop laughing. I was bent over double. “You don’t have to worry. You don’t have a gym body.” I am laughing again as I type this. I tell Kathy, who is sitting next to Kevina and Lincoln, on a little retaining wall.

“Did you hear what Greg said?”

“No.”

 And I repeat the story between bouts of laughter. They all smile and giggle a bit. Now, fast forward, it is an hour later, we are headed home in the truck. Kathy says:

“What a wonderful visit we had today.”

“Yes. It was. Lovely.”

“I had a lot of fun.”

“Me, too. My favorite part was when Greg said: ” Don’t worry, you don’t have a gym body.”

 Kathy breaks out laughing.

“Don’t worry, Kevin. You will never have a gym body.”

I am laughing out loud, as is she.

“How do you know? I work out three times a week. I could have a gym body.”

“I have lived with you for 33 years, almost 34 years. Trust me, you don’t have a gym body. A gym body has wide shoulders, narrow hips, big biceps, flat stomach, and defined muscles. YOU do not have a gym body.”

I laughed so hard I almost banged my head on the dashboard. If I could have slapped my knee, I would have.

“But honey, I could have a gym body.”

Straight faced. looking out at traffic, I hear a calm, matter of fact, tone of voice say:

“Nope.”

  I am rolling, so is she. But it doesn’t stop there. Oh no.

 We calm down a bit. And then Kathy yells (okay, that is an exaggeration, but you know that tone of voice women use, when they have to teach us males how badly we are screwing something up? That tone of voice.) It was over something to do with money, I think.  Well, in the moment or two after that brought all the laughter down, we pull up next to a car. In that car is a couple our age. The look at his face says it all. HIS wife is unloading on him, but she has the check book out- and is pointedly going over line, line after line, and he is looking straight ahead with a defeated look, and a longing in his eyes that said: “Lord , take me now. Please don’t make me suffer anymore.”

 I tap Kathy’s arm and say, look at that! She looks over, sees what is going on, and the look on his face, and she laughs so hard, she is crying. She squeezes out: ” At least I didn’t read to you line by line from the check book.”

We are both hooting and hollering, like mad dogs. Laughter just keeps bubbling back up, and we wipe our eyes, and start up again. Finally, we get home. I make waffles ( I didn’t eat at the restaurant because I had breakfast at home, but not waffles. Everyone else had waffles, or biscuits, so…I wanted my waffle!). After I eat my waffles, I say to Kathy:

“Well, there goes my gym body.”

“You don’t have a gym body. So, don’t worry.”

 And we are off again. I try to find old pictures to prove I had a gym body…I never did. Even when I was in shape, I didn’t look like I was. Well, let me tell you, the pandemonium, as I weakly tried to establish I could have a gym body if I wanted to, well, it kept breaking into that deep soul satisfying laughter I had at the park, in the truck and now, at home.

“Don’t worry, you don’t have a gym body.”  After some research, I never did. And that made us both laugh even harder.

 I wish all of you could have been here. Laughter, is good medicine.

Hugs to all, Kevin the non hunk. A chunk. Yep , that is me, a chunk! LOL