What Makes Me Laugh

We’re watching television, and a commercial for the cartoon Snow White comes on.

Doug says, completely deadpan, “I had the hots for Snow White.”

“You did?” I laugh. “I never knew this! How old were you?”

“Four or five,” he says.

And I laugh some more.

That’s what my friend Crystal said when she realized that Doug wasn’t aware we were planning a trip to Vegas. 

“Yeah,” I said, giving a sheepish look over at Doug. “I haven’t told him yet. But I was going to soon!”

See, I have this bad habit of asking for forgiveness rather than permission (not that I need to ask permission from my husband to do anything, but we do make joint financial decisions together). And I wasn’t quite sure if I wanted to go, and then there wasn’t a good time to say anything, and so I procrastinated. 

Anyway, let me back up here. I think I’m getting ahead of myself. This whole thing started with a call from my sister a couple of weeks ago.  “Hey,” she said. “I was wondering if you wanted to run a half marathon in Vegas with me.” 

“Yes!” I answered without thinking. “When is it?” 

“December 6.”

A good time of year to leave Montana. Sun in December. Just when I need it most. Plus, a fun girls trip with my sister. Plus, I’ve never been to Vegas (gambling doesn’t excite me), and we would be running on the strip in the Rock ‘n Roll marathon. Plus, I need motivation to complete my second wildly improbable goal: running a 10k in 50 minutes. I know that’s a slug pace for most runners, but believe me, it’s wildly improbable for me. I chronicled my first wildly improbable goal — winning a trip to Australia — a few months ago, and that was an awesome experience.

So, I asked Crystal if she wanted to run it with me. Before I got around to telling Doug. But I had a lot of time to tell him! Months to go even, if it just hadn’t have slipped out at dinner we might have gone weeks before having the, “You’re going to Vegas? On a girls trip? Without me?” discussion.

Anyway, that’s over now, and he’s cool with it, but I think he’s still willing to go and crash the party if I let him. Besides, he pointed out, there’s a run through wedding option during the marathon so we could renew our vows during the run! Hmm, now that’s an idea. I wonder if I’d have to buy a white running outfit?

No, no, no — Doug can’t go. Sorry honey, this is a girls trip, and training started this week. Crystal and I are running with the baby in the jogger and the dog’s leash in my hand. It’s an adventure every morning. It’s a wildly improbable goal. In Vegas! With the girls!

Last Sunday morning I was washing my face and getting ready to take a shower when Doug came in the bathroom, looked in the mirror, and said, “Hey! Our hair looks a lot alike!”

Not a statement a woman wants to hear from her husband early in the morning, especially since I got a short haircut for the summer that I wasn’t entirely pleased with. Anyway, he convinced me to find some humor in it, not touch my bedhead, and go outside for a couple of self-portraits with the camera.

They say couples start to look alike as they age. I’m just hoping I don’t grow any facial hair to prove that theory. 

Christmas in April, that’s what the NFL Network is calling it. I’m calling it crazy that I even care. But I do. 

Every couple has a story they like to tell — for most it’s how they met (though I’ve found that this does not apply to couples who meet online, they tend to mumble when asked about it), for others it’s the weird thing that happened at the wedding (Aunt Myrtle nearly fell of the balcony!),  and for us it’s my conversion to a National Football League fan.

When Doug and I started dating I told him there was just one rule:

“Don’t ask me to watch football with you.”

I was serious about this. Football fans, to me, were wasting time watching a brutal sport where men are paid a lot of money to nearly kill each other . Football players, to me, were people with some minor physical differences than the rest of us — like inner thighs so huge they rub together when they walk. I just didn’t care about the game. A lot of people care because their families are into it (like my husband’s family), but Montana doesn’t have any professional sports teams so you just pick whatever team appeals to you.  A lot of people here root for the Broncos (Denver) or the Seahawks (Seattle) or the Vikings (Minnesota).

Anyway, Doug took me at my word, and the first year that we were dating he hid his football fanatacism like a dirty secret. He took me skiing on Superbowl Sunday, and his television barely worked. By the time we married I was convinced I had an enlightened man on my hands.

What I didn’t know is that Doug’s favorite team, the New England Patriots, were having a couple of bad years while we were dating so there wasn’t much incentive to watch them. When Tom Brady came to play for the team, things started to turn around and suddenly the Patriots were winning Superbowls and Doug was staying home on Sunday to watch the games. Go figure.

I resisted for a while, trying to distract him with other fun things to do on Sundays, but eventually I just gave in and became a fan myself. It seemed easier than trying to turn a life-long converted religious football freak into an atheist like me. Plus, I found the following reasons to change my mind about the sport:

1. If you ever need an excuse to break from your health-food diet, football gives you plenty of opportunity to buy beer and salty pub food at least once a week.

2. If your politics or religion differs from the rest of your family’s views, football is a great neutral subject for Thanksgiving dinner.

3. I kind of like Tom Brady.