My mom laughed a lot. She was one of the funniest women I knew. When I was a kid, her laughter could be heard throughout the neighborhood. Hours and hours would pass. The subtle indent from holding the phone to her ear would show red and sweaty. Her only downfall was that--she never let me in on what was so funny.
Later, I learned about her potty humor.
"I gotta go pee, Jenny, I gotta go pee!" she said as she ran my toy frog around the house, holding its arms between its legs.
Much Later, I learned about her dirty sense of humor. She tried to explain that the potted plants in the corner were for the dirty old men who couldn't make it to the bathroom in time.
Now, I see she gets the last laugh. Just before she passed, she called me to say she wanted to go home. As a psychic medium, I knew deep down what she meant--home with a capital "H." But then she asked, "Where are you?" I said, "I'm home, mom." She replied, "Well, how did you get there?"
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