Jan. 24 was Global Belly Laugh Day.
A certain Elaine Helle of Lake Oswego, Ore. conceived this idea in 2006 in an effort to better society’s mood. And her idea obviously was a good one because 30 countries participated from seven continents.
I’m not completely sure how many continents there actually are, but I suppose that’s a debate for another day.
Ms. Helle chose the Monday closest to Jan. 24 to launch her guffaws. Why? Jan. 24 is considered by those in the know to be the most depressing day of the year.
Has this laughing initiative worked? We can’t be sure. It seems we don’t have a lot to laugh about these days—unless you tune into the Republican leadership race.
The truth is we need to laugh. Every day of the year requires chortling, not just Global Belly Laugh Day, but such a day is a great jumping off place, for sure.
Life gets ridiculously serious at times, what with the economy and the environment in the condition it is in. The news can drain the giggle out of the most positive among us.
Many who have lived beyond the four-score mark attribute their longevity to laughter. Seems like good advice to me and not that difficult to follow.
Get a hydro bill: laugh. Flat tire: laugh. Get on the scale: laugh (or at least try to).
I just looked in the living room and the television remote has been gnawed and slobbered on. A puppy is lying on the sofa with the remote clutched between her front paws.
She looks ever so pleased and if she could, she probably would discharge a huge belly laugh.
Of course, said puppy is not allowed on the furniture, nor is jumping up and snatching the remote from the end table part of her mandate. I’m sure this is just a small oversight on her part—a momentary lapse in common sense and acceptable decorum.
I’m sure it won’t happen again.
A belly laugh would work well here, but it’s all in the timing. Remove puppy, then laugh or the breaking of rules becomes less obvious.
A fellow in the basement is installing tile on the wall behind the wood stove and the spaces are inconsistent. He swears a lot, which might make the average person wince, but I figure if he’s swearing while doing plastic surgery on my face, then there might be a problem.
He’s not touching up the Mona Lisa or doing a heart transplant. So swear away.
The future of the world isn’t hanging in the balance so I shall smile and chuckle. After all, it is just grout.
I have a cold. My nose is leaking and my head is throbbing, and feels like it might be full of concrete. My joints ache. It think I might just be a victim of the man-cold. Could someone phone my mother?
I’m trying to laugh, but it makes me cough. When I’m prostrate on the couch considering my last days on Earth, why is it that I notice the cobwebs and the bits of puppy-chewed newspaper everywhere?
I notice it but can’t lift my body from its prone position to deal with said litter, so instead I shall laugh. A belly laugh? Not sure I can muster that.
My mother had a great laugh, an easy laugh, an automatic laugh. I think her philosophy was that every day should be a laughter day.
She used to say, “Cheer up, things will get worse,” and they usually did, but that didn’t stop her from laughing.
I’d like to hear my mother’s laughter right now; hear it bounce off the walls and settle on my skin. Her dark eyes would flash and her head would be thrown back. She might lean on the kitchen cupboard with one arm, bent at the waist, trying to catch her breath.
Then she’d laugh again, and I would join in and laugh until my sides hurt.
That sounds like a perfect way to celebrate Global Belly Laugh Day.
Jan. 24 was Global Belly Laugh Day.