Of the two of us, Rita is more prone to burst out laughing spontaneously during a car ride. This usually happens when she has "gone to the theater": lulled into a half-conscious state through a potent combination of the car's gentle rocking motion and the soothing familiarity of one of the three CDs we keep in the car (and never switch out for some reason), she replays a prior event or conversation in her brain over and over again. It's a fascinating phenomenon that could take up an entire blog by itself -- her eyes dart back and forth, not focusing on anything in particular; her lips move along with the scrolling text in her mind's eye. I know it's happening because she's stopped talking, stopped singing. Sometimes I catch her, in the corner of my eye, and I ask, "What are you thinking about?" Often the burst of laughter is because she knows I've caught her again. Other times, however, it's because the memory was really, really funny. So she'll remind me of the funny, and soon we're both laughing.
I suppose the rough equivalent of "going to the theater" for me is when I "see the train coming." This usually happens when we're eating at a restaurant. According to Rita, there are times when I zone out in mid-conversation -- my gaze falls off to the side, my mouth parts ever so slightly, and my eyes grow just a tad bit bigger and rounder. But I'm not doing anything cool like re-living a wonderful memory or trying to re-create a snappy piece of dialogue. It's just a blank gap in my consciousness. I'm lucky I don't drool. When Rita says, "You see the train coming again?" I snap out of it and grin sheepishly.
I hope I never see the train coming while Rita's in the theater. We may never get back here!
2 comments:
Ok, hi.
First of all, it's not just Damon's eyes widening that make it look like a train is coming. His nostrils flare at the same time! I used to keep turning around in alarm, wondering what was happening. (I did this hundreds of times, I'm sure, before learning.)
Second, I can't believe D's exposing my "going to the theatre" (his name for it) in his very first post. (Please let no one but D ever catch me at it.) (Please also let me not be senile before 35.)
(Sometimes, if I stay in the theatre long, my whole face moves and I talk. [Yes.] With hands.)
But third, the brattiest thing is D's responses when he catches me. He does not go, "At the theatre again?" all doting and fond. He comes and stands next to me, gazing in the same direction, and moves his face and lips, too.
(Then, when I catch him, he clasps his hands fatuously together and declaims, "Oh, how I wish I could go to the Theatre with you! It looks like such fun!")
pout
I never knew theatre-going was so visible before D started busting on me.
Thus begins Damon's blog,
r
Shit, y'all. I cannot take this. I am having fits over here. Maybe I am just extra-punchy tonight, but truthfully, I just think it's because you two are superduperextra funny. Holy crap. Tears. Rolling...cannot explain. It's like "Flames! On the sides of my face..." except with tears and laughing. And not the pretty laughing either. Oh no, it's the on-the-verge-of-drooling laughter. Oh, ow.
Post a Comment