The Rapture

This weekend was Daddy’s golf tournament. [1] E couldn’t make the trip, so I trekked up to Paris on Friday. I was all the way there before I started to see (mostly on Twitter and some on facebook) all the jokes about the Rapture.

I called E to say hello and made some of my own wonderfully witty comments. I apologized for being in Paris for the Rapture, but assured him that I was hell-bound and would be home ASAP to meet him so we could endure the apocalypse together.

me: “I’m sorry I won’t be there for the Rapture, but as soon as the tournament is over, I will find a way to get to you, so we can be together.”

E: “Yeah–I mean, you can’t go anywhere until you come home. Your basket is here.”

me: “What basket?”

E: “Your hand basket. It’s right beside mine. We can’t go to hell without ’em.”

And this is why we are married and get along so well. We can make jokes and laugh about anything. E taught me to laugh hard and deep, the way Daddy did naturally. Everyone should learn how to do this. Life is a lot more fun when you can give it a great big belly laugh…you know, the kind that makes you sore the next day!



[1] It was a little smaller than usual with a lot less sponsors than in recent years. It’s unfortunate that they can’t get their ducks in a row like a “real” event. It was only a few short weeks ago that they even finalized the date. :/

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