For the last four nights I've had the joy of laughter in bed. Poor long-suffering Calvin endured, tossing and turning, with the bed shaking from my silent laughter. I'm afraid he'd describe the last four nights in a less flattering manner.
You see, he's been reading and relaxing with scenes of Shakespeare's Midsummer's Night Dream. I've been devouring Janet Evanovich. While Shakespeare asks, "Lord, what fools we mortals be," Evanovich shows us what fools her characters can be, over and over.
Yes, I know everytime Stephanie, the recurring heroine in the series, gets in a car--be it old, new, borrowed or stolen--it's either going to explode, catch fire, drift into the river or be crushed by a trash truck. It's a given I expect, and yet I laugh like a loon every time it happens.
Granted, it bothers me that she can't make up her mind between Ranger and Morelli. I think any woman that takes fourteen books to decide on a man, never will. Talk about major commitment issues!
Still, I love a good laugh. That's why I dearly loved the slapstick of Lucy back in the sixties. She could convey more humor with an expression than the foul-mouthed comics of today could ever hope to achieve.
My youngest son was in Hollywood last weekend. Guess whose star he sent me a picture of on his droid? You guessed it--Lucille Ball. The kid knows his mother. He knows she loves a good laugh. Who makes you laugh? Who do you read when you want to chuckle and wipe tears of mirth from your eyes? I'd love to know.