"I am thankful for laughter, except when milk comes out of my nose." Woody Allen

A good friend once told me that when life throws hard things your way you can either laugh or cry it all out. Since I really hate crying--my eyes get all puffy and I basically look like a punching bag--and I'm trying to be more like this particular friend (the most excellent, Nicki Preece), I've taken to laughing a lot more. When the plane came down on the Hudson months ago, my coworkers and I discussed how we each would have reacted if in the same situation as the passengers. I imagine that I would have either begged the hot guy next to me to make out with me before we both plummet to our deaths, or actually explode from my insides freaking out so much. 

My mind then wondered how Nicki would have responded if in such a predicament. Suddenly, in my minds eye, I saw Nicki, standing there on the wing of the plane with everyone around her somber and shaking in the frigid waters. No doubt, if she was in such a situation she would ponder her bad luck for a moment, then burst into her crazy deep and penetrating laugh that makes you either want to start laughing with her or smack her silly for finding everything so dang funny.

Nicki laughs at everything because she seriously find pretty much everything absolutely hilarious. That's just the kind of person she is. Just happy all the time. A definite cup half-full kind of person. I tend to laugh when I go into shock and lack the ability to do much of anything else.

Like 2 years ago when I started mountain biking, I went on a ride with my far-more experienced little brother. He zipped around the desert landscape, dodging cacti as he wound along the hilly, curvy bike trail. Less adept than he, but refusing to be shown up, I followed as closely as I could and felt that every sharp turn was going to take me face first into a prickly giant cactus and zillions of sharp little rocks. Minutes later, my fears were realized, but bloodied and ego-bruised, I got back on the bike refusing to give in. We continued on the trail and suddenly my brother disappeared as he zoomed down a very steep hill. I followed, my bike speed increasing, control lessening, and my blood pressure sky rocketing.

Then, before I had any idea what was happening, I rode straight into the biggest, thorniest, most gnarly 9 ft bush on planet earth. As I pulled myself out, I could feel the flesh on my arms ripping against the merciless thorns. My arms looked as though they were used as a cats' scratching post. It was pretty sick/cool. My legs too were bloodied up and I was about to black out. I sat there until I felt like I wasn't going to pass out and we started riding back to my car, taking a short cut. I started chuckling to myself on the ride back as I imagined how I must have looked just zooming, without braking one bit, straight into the unforgiving bush from hell. Staggering like a drunkard as I hopped off my bike, I tried helping my brother get the bikes back on the rack. But the chuckling soon became hysterical laughter. I sat on the asphalt next to my car because a) I was still on the verge of passing out and b) I was laughing so hard that I couldn't really stay upright. Tears were running down my face and I was shaking from laughing so hard. I'd stop breathing for bits and then burst into more maniacal laughter.

Since my brother didn't drive stick, I had to drive home, still bloodied up and laughing like a complete lunatic. He said later that he'd never been so scared in his entire life.

That was kind of like this morning.

At 7:30am, as I sat down at my desk--luggage STILL lost after 3 and half weeks (with mission scriptures, jewlery, and over $2000 worth of clothes and stuff--oy, I feel sick thinking about it), i-pod stolen, hamstring pulled, and car just totaled 45 minutes earlier--I started laughing. It was the kind of quietly delirious laughter that prompts co-workers to turn and look at each other with eyes that say "Yep, it's finally happened. Erin has completely lost it."

"Here, Erin, have some cake," said Jolene, dishing me up some pinapple upside-down cake she had made for the shipping guy, Carl's, birthday. She knows me very well. I told her I felt like vomiting and couldn't possibly eat the cake. But thanks, anyway. 

Five minutes later, I had downed two pieces and I don't even like pineapple upside down cake.