Belly laugh meaning:
- Laugh a deep, hearty laugh
Noun: belly laugh
Belly laugh meaning:
- A burst of deep loud hearty laughter
- A joke that seems extremely funny
Synonyms:slapper, scream, wow, riot
Derived forms: bellylaughs, belly laughs, bellylaughing, bellylaughed
- Shauna Niequist – I want a life that sizzles and pops and makes me laugh out loud. And I don’t want to get to the end, or to tomorrow, even, and realize that my life is a collection of meetings and pop cans and errands and receipts and dirty dishes. I want to eat cold tangerines and sing out loud in the car with the windows open and wear pink shoes and stay up all night laughing and paint my walls the exact color of the sky right now. I want to sleep hard on clean white sheets and throw parties and eat ripe tomatoes and read books so good they make me jump up and down, and I want my everyday to make God belly laugh, glad that he gave life to someone who loves the gift.
- Robert A. Heinlein – I’ve found out why people laugh. They laugh because it hurts so much. Because it’s the only thing that’ll make it stop hurting”. But that’s not all people laugh at.”Isn’t it? Perhaps I don’t grok all its fullness yet. But find me something that really makes you laugh sweetheart. A joke, or anything else- but something that gave you a a real belly laugh, not a smile. Then we’ll see if there isn’t a wrongness wasn’t there.” He thought. “I grok when apes learn to laugh, they’ll be people.
- Jim Butcher – Everything I told him was technically true, more or less, and I got the job done,” Jack said stubbornly. “Look, sir, if I were perfect, I wouldn’t be working here in the first place. Now, would I?”And then he hung up. On speakerphone. On a freaking archangel.I couldn’t help it. I let out a rolling belly laugh. “I just got suckered into doing this by. Stars and stones, you didn’t even know that he. Big bad angel boy, and you get the wool pulled over your eyes by. ” I stopped trying to talk and just laughed.Uriel eyed the phone, then me, and then tucked the little device away again, clearly nonplussed. “It doesn’t matter how well I believe I know your kind, Harry. They always manage to find some way to try my patience.
- Samantha Young – You’re lucky you’re good in bed.”“Oh.” He grabbed at my foot. “I think you keep me around for other reasons.”I slanted him a look out of the corner of my eye. “Right now, for the life of me I can’t think what those reasons are.”Braden tugged harder on my foot, raising his fingers towards it. “Take it back or the foot get sit.”Oh hell no! I yanked at my appendage.“Braden, no.”Deaf to my warning, he started to tickle me,his grip tightening as I laughed breathlessly and kicked out, trying to get free.He wouldn’t stop. Ruthless!“Braden,” I panted hysterically, attempting to shove at him with my arms but struggling as he continued his war on my feet. I laughed harder,ribs aching, and then horror. I broke wind. Big time. Braden immediately let go of my feet, his loud, rumbling laugh filling the room, laughter that only deepened when I lost balance, from kicking out at him and then being abruptly let go, and fell off the couch with an undignified thud.Mortified as he collapsed against the couch belly laughing at my fart then fall, I grabbed a cushion and launched it at him from my position on the floor.Of course this only made the idiot laugh harder. I warred between feeling humiliation at farting in front of him, something you just didn’t do in company, and laughing, since his was so infectious. “Braden!” I whined. “Shut up. It’s not funny,” I huffed, my lips caught in part smile, part grimace.“Oh babe,” he tried to catch his breath, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye as he grinned down at me. “That was definitely funny.” He held out a hand to help me up.I slapped it away. “You’re such an immature a-hole.”“Hey, I’m not the one who just let off.”Oh God, it was so awful. I groaned, falling onto my back and covering my eyes with my hands.“Jocelyn,” I felt his hand on my knee and heard the amusement in his voice. “Babe, why are you so embarrassed? It was just a fart.Brilliantly timed I might add.”I sucked in the mortification. “Oh my God, shut up.” He chuckled again and I snapped open my furious eyes. “You’re enjoying this!”“Well yeah,” he huffed, eyes bright. “I’ve never seen you embarrassed before. Even when I walked in on you naked you gave me attitude and acted like you didn’t care. That you’re mortified by a fart is really quite adorable.”“I am not adorable!”“Oh I think you are.
- Garrett Leigh – haven’t, have I? I’ve never heard you yawn, cough, or sneeze. Why is that?” Jed laughed laughed a low but real belly laugh that warmed the whole room. “How come you don’t notice there’s a hole in the roof, but you notice that?
- Debra Holland – Antonia Valleau cast the first shovelful of dirt onto her husband’s fur-shrouded body, lying in the grave she’d dug in their garden plot, the only place where the soil wasn’t still rock hard. I won’t be breakin’ down. For the sake of my children, I must be strong. Pain squeezed her chest like a steel trap. She had to force herself to take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of loam and pine. I must be doing this.She drove the shovel into the soil heaped next to the grave, hefted the laden blade, and dumped the earth over Jean-Claude, trying to block out the thumping sound the soil made as it covered him. Even as Antonia scooped and tossed, her muscles aching from the effort, her heart stayed numb, and her mind kept playing out the last sight of her husband. The memory haunting her, she paused to catch her breath and wipe the sweat off her brow, her face hot from exertion in spite of the cool spring air.Antonia touched the tips of her dirty fingers to her lips. She could still feel the pressure of Jean-Claude’s mouth on hers as he’d kissed her before striding out the door for a day of hunting. She’d held up baby Jacques, and Jean-Claude had tapped his son’s nose. Jacques had let out a belly laugh that made his father respond in kind. Her heart had filled with so much love and pride in her family that she’d chuckled, too. Stepping outside, she’d watched Jean-Claude ruffle the dark hair of their six-year-old, Henri. Then he strode off, whistling, with his rifle carried over his shoulder. She’d thought it would be a good day—a normal day. She assumed her husband would return to their mountain home in the afternoon before dusk as he always did, unless he had a longer hunt planned.As Antonia filled the grave, she denied she was burying her husband. Jean-Claude be gone a checkin’ the trap line, she told herself, flipping the dirt onto his shroud.She moved through the nightmare with leaden limbs, a knotted stomach, burning dry eyes, and a throat that felt as though a log had lodged there. While Antonia shoveled, she kept glancing at her little house, where, inside, Henri watched over the sleeping baby. From the garden, she couldn’t see the doorway.She worried about her son—what the glimpse of his father’s bloody body had done to the boy. Mon Dieu, she couldn’t stop to comfort him. Not yet. Henri had promised to stay inside with the baby, but she didn’t know how long she had before Jacques woke up. Once she finished burying Jean-Claude, Antonia would have to put her sons on a mule and trek to where she’d found her husband’s body clutched in the great arms of the dead grizzly. She wasn’t about to let his last kill lie there for the animals and the elements to claim. Her family needed that meat and the fur. She heard a sleepy wail that meant Jacques had awakened. Just a few more shovelfuls. Antonia forced herself to hurry, despite how her arms, shoulders, and back screamed in pain.When she finished the last shovelful of earth, exhausted, Antonia sank to her knees, facing the cabin, her back to the grave, placing herself between her sons and where their father lay. She should go to them, but she was too depleted to move.
- Minecrafty Family Books – This time that ornery creature full-out belly laughed at me. But to my surprise, instead of “Neigh!” it came out as a loud “Hee-haw!
- Alan Russell – You can only get so many belly laughs out of nihilism and the price of black eyeliner.
- Denise Hunter – Later that night Meridith was in her room working on Ben’s scrapbook when she heard a burst of laughter. Ben’s belly laughs drew her from her room, toward the steps. What she saw brought a bittersweet smile. Meridith lowered herself on an upper stair and peered through the oak spindles. Ben had Jake pinned to the rug and was tickling him. Jake moaned like he was in torture, which only made Ben laugh harder. She’d never seen the child so happy. He was small next to Jake’s mass, his wiry arms moving furiously, digging his fingers into Jake’s side. He twisted, straddling Jake. Jake groaned. “Help! Someone help!” Ben laughed. “You’re doomed! If I had my ropes, I’d tie you up and toss you off a cliff!” “No! Not that!” Meridith smiled around the tears that gathered in her eyes. She wondered if her father had tussled with Ben. He surely missed the interaction. And while she was grateful for Jake’s willingness to play with the boy . . . What would happen when the repairs were finished and Jake left? She saw how attached Ben had become to him. Her mind flashed back over the previous weeks to other occasions. Jake helping Noelle fix her bike chain, Jake and Max working on Max’s new boat model. Jake, Jake, Jake. He’d become a fixture around the house right under her nose. Worse, he’d become a friend. A friend the children would lose. The
- Tammy Falkner – Suddenly, there’s a movement down by my belly. I look down. Pete’s lap is moving? “Seriously, Pete,” I say. “This is not the place.” He chuckles and drops onto a sofa. The hand warmer of his hoodie is wiggling, moving up and down. “Why don’t you come and see what I got for you?” he says, waggling his eyebrows. A laugh escapes my throat, even though I say, “That is so not funny.” “Come on, little girl,” he taunts. “Come and see what’s in my pocket.” His hoodie is definitely wiggling, and there’s something in there. I go sit beside him, and he arches his hips toward me when I reach out and press gently on the lump. “Keep going,” he says. His voice is suddenly hoarse. I reach into the side of the pocket and feel a cold nose sniff my hand. I lift the edge and look down. “What’s that?” I ask, but I’m already smiling. “That’s your present,” he says. He’s still smirking. “I just got back from the vet with her. She got deflead and dewormed and had her ears cleaned and got tested for kitty diseases. She’s healthy.” He pulls her out, and she’s so tiny she fits in the palm of his hand. “I got a litter box and some food and stuff, too,” he says. He’s watching me, almost like he’s waiting for me to shove it at him and start screaming. She’s teeny weenie, and she has orange hair. “What’s her name?” I ask. He shrugs. “That’s up to you.” “Ginger,” I say. “She’s a Ginger.” I lift her to my cheek, and she nuzzles me. “Is she really mine?” “Well,” he says, grinning, “If I wanted some pussy of my own, I would just ask for some.” I startle. But then I realize what he said is so freaking ludicrous that I start to laugh. It’s a deep belly laugh, and I can barely catch my breath. I lean over and kiss him. “You want some, all you have to do is ask,” I say. He growls low in his throat and pulls me in so he can kiss me.
- One man’s theology is another man’s belly laugh.
- She makes tea by hand. Nettles, slippery elm, turmeric, cinnamon – my mother is a recipe for warm throats and belly laughs. Once she fell off a ladder when I was three. She says all she was worried about was my face as I watched her fall.
- Wait.” Stefan’s voice was hard suddenly. Bonnie and Elena turned back and froze, embracing each other, trembling. “What is your—your father—going to do to you when he finds out that you allowed this?””He will not kill me,” Sage said brusquely, the wild tone back in his voice. “He may even find it as amusant as I do, and we will be sharing a belly laugh tomorrow.
- I wonder if God cries. Or gets sad, even. Or happy. Or elated. Does he ever have a good belly laugh? Does he sense contentment? Does he feel pride or remorse? Is he stoic? We know from the Old Testament that he experiences bloodthirsty, murderous rage and fierce pride. He imbued mankind with all of these emotions, but it’s hard to imagine him feeling any of these. It’s almost a little embarrassing to think of him feeling jealousy. Of course he’s WAY more advanced and evolved than we are. So I guess the ultimate stage of humanity is when we don’t laugh or cry or experience emotion at all. God gave us laughter as a constant remind of what lesser-evolved beings humans are. Stupid humans!
- Mindy runs to the DVD player and delicately places the disk in the holder and presses play. “Will you sit in this chair, please, Princess Mindy?” I ask, bowing deeply at the waist. Mindy giggles as she replies, ”I guess so.” After Mindy sits down, I take a wide-tooth comb and start gently combing out her tangles. Mindy starts vibrating with excitement as she blurts, “Mr. Jeff, you’re gonna fix my hair fancy, ain’t you?” “We’ll see if a certain Princess can hold still long enough for me to finish,” I tease. Immediately, Mindy becomes as still as a stone statue. After a couple of minutes, I have to say, “Mindy, sweetheart, it’s okay to breathe. I just can’t have you bouncing, because I’m afraid it will cause me to pull your hair.” Mindy slumps down in her chair just slightly. “Okay Mr. Jeff, I was a scared you was gonna stop,” she whispers, her chin quivering. I adopt a very fake, very over-the-top French accent and say, “Oh no, Monsieur Jeff must complete Princess Mindy’s look to make the Kingdom happy. Mindy erupts with the first belly laugh I’ve heard all day as she responds, “Okay, I’ll try to be still, but it’s hard ‘cause I have the wiggles real bad.” I pat her on the shoulder and chuckle as I say, “Just try your best, sweetheart. That’s all anyone can ask.” Kiera comes screeching around the corner in a blur, plunks her purse on the table, and says breathlessly, “Geez-O-Pete, I can’t believe I’m late for the makeover. I love makeovers.” Kiera digs through her purse and produces two bottles of nail polish and nail kit. “It’s time for your mani/pedi ma’am. Would you prefer Pink Pearl or Frosted Creamsicle? Mindy raises her hand like a schoolchild and Kiera calls on her like a pupil, “I want Frosted Cream toes please,” Mindy answers. “Your wish is my command, my dear,” Kiera responds with a grin. For the next few minutes, Mindy gets the spa treatment of her life as I carefully French braid her hair into pigtails. As a special treat, I purchased some ribbons from the gift shop and I’m weaving them into her hair. I tuck a yellow rose behind her ear. I don my French accent as I declare, “Monsieur Jeffery pronounces Princess Mindy finished and fit to rule the kingdom.” Kiera hands Mindy a new tube of grape ChapStick from her purse, “Hold on, a true princess never reigns with chapped lips,” she says. Mindy giggles as she responds, “You’re silly, Miss Kiera. Nobody in my kingdom is going to care if my lips are shiny.” Kiera’s laugh sounds like wind chimes as she covers her face with her hands as she confesses, “Okay, you busted me. I just like to use it because it tastes yummy.” “Okay, I want some, please,” Mindy decides. Kiera is putting the last minute touches on her as Mindy is scrambling to stand on Kiera’s thighs so she can get a better look in the mirror. When I reach out to steady her, she grabs my hand in a death grip. I glance down at her. Her eyes are wide and her mouth is opening and closing like a fish. I shoot Kiera a worried glance, but she merely shrugs. “Holy Sh — !” Mindy stops short when she sees Kiera’s expression. “Mr. Jeff is an angel for reals because he turned me into one. Look at my hair Miss Kiera, there are magic ribbons in it! I’m perfect. I can be anything I want to be.” Spontaneously, we all join together in a group hug. I kiss the top of her head as I agree, “Yes, Mindy, you are amazing and the sky is the limit for you.
- Did you know he named his pistols?” she asked. He felt his jaw begin to tick and immediately forced himself to relax. “I think I’ve read that before.” “Well, I just read it recently. As if having a boy pistol and a girl pistol wasn’t bad enough, he goes and names them. Odysseus and Penelope.” She laughed. A full-throated, from-the-belly laugh. “But what can you expect from somebody named Lucious?” Over his four years as a Ranger, he’d traveled seventy-four thousand miles, made two hundred scouts, and one hundred eighty-two arrests. He’d endured cold, hunger, and fatigue without a murmur. He’d been said to have the eyes of a fox, the ears of a wolf, and the ability to follow scent like a hound. Yet this tiny bit of fluff could throw him off-kilter like no other. He counted to ten. “What’s wrong with the name Lucious?” She looked at him, incredulous. “What’s wrong with Lucious? It’s it’s ,I don’t know ,silly, don’t you think? Sounds like luscious.” He was named after his father. The father whose life had been senselessly snuffed out by Mother Nature. Carrying his dad’s name was a great privilege and a source of pride for Luke. How dare she make fun of it. Anger simmering, he twisted the wires together and forced himself to respond as if he had nothing personal at stake. “Don’t guess I ever thought about it. Can’t say the name’s ever bothered me, though.” “That’s probably because it isn’t yours. I’m sure if it were, you’d think differently.” “Maybe so.” Picking up a cloth on the switchboard, he wiped his hands. “Did you get a look at this Lucious fellow?” “I did.” He raised a brow. “And was he luscious?” “Ha!” Folding the paper, she tossed it on the desk. “Hardly. If anybody was luscious, it was Frank Comer.
- Red caught her hand and lifted it from his mouth and held it gently. “Say, ‘You’re a polecat, Red Dawson.’ Tell me I’m a mangy, growly old bear. Tell me I’m a sneakin’, low-down coyote. Tell me I’m as mean as a rattler and as cantankerous as Buck and as stubborn as an ox. Say it or admit you’re a liar and a coward, Mrs. Dawson. Tell me I’m a—” “All those animals,” Cassie interrupted, “are put here by God for the exact purpose they serve.” Rather sharply she added, “You’re the problem.” Cassie seemed to realize what she’d said, and she pulled back a step. She’d have covered her mouth again if Red hadn’t held tight to her hand. Red grinned for a second. Then he tipped his head back and laughed out loud. It was a full belly laugh, and when he looked back at her, his eyes were damp from laughing and he had to wipe them. “Why, Cassandra Dawson, I do believe you just insulted me.
- Suddenly, he hooks an arm around me and drags me to lie on top of him. I rest on my elbows on his chest. “I don’t like the idea of you fucking them.” “I didn’t fuck them,” I say. I move like I’m going to get up. “I’m jealous as hell, Friday, and I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit. So, go and play house with them. Leave me out of it.” “They’re gay,” I blurt out. I really wanted him to come to the knowledge by himself so he would understand. “What?” “They’re a couple. I’m their surrogate.” I lift my fist and knock playfully on his forehead. “Earth to Paul,” I say. “Are you still in there?” “They’re a couple?” he asks quietly. “Yes.” His arms tighten around me, and then he flips us over until he’s hovering over me. He brushes my hair back from my face. Then he does something I never would have expected. He chuckles. It’s a deep belly laugh, and he buries his face in my neck, his body rocking, he’s laughing so hard. “They’re married,” I say. “And they wanted a baby.” I point down toward my belly. “I wasn’t using my uterus for anything, so I told them they could borrow it.” I lay my palm on the side of his face and bring his blue eyes to meet mine. “Now can you stop being so jealous and come and have dinner with us?” “You never slept with them?” he asks. His eyes search my face, like he’s looking for the meaning of life. I shake my head. “I don’t think they’re into vaginas,” I say. “And I kind of have a vagina.
- What’s wrong?” Jake’s voice, deep as thunder, unsettled her. Why did he have to be so handsome? She wanted to fall right inside those brown eyes. “I saw you in the living room with Ben . . . earlier.” His lips pulled upward, no doubt remembering Ben’s belly laughs. “He’s a fun kid.” She hated to wipe the smile from his face. “I know you mean well, Jake, but I think it’s best if you avoid spending time with the children.” The smile slid south. “We were just playing around.” “The children are getting attached to you. I don’t think it’s healthy.” His jaw flexed, his shoulders squared. “They need relationships now more than ever.” “Not from someone who’ll soon exit their lives.” He flinched. She hated to hurt his feelings, had a physical ache from wounding him. “It doesn’t have to be that way,” he said finally. “I don’t want to exit their lives. I don’t want to exit your life.” Maybe he thought they could be some happy family or something. It was time to tell him everything. “I’m selling Summer Place. We’ll be leaving the island soon. The Goldmans—our guests over the daffodil weekend—made an offer, and I accepted. I haven’t told the children yet, so I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t mention it. We’ll stay through closing in late June.” Jake’s lips parted. A second later they pressed together. He walked to the end of the porch and back. He reminded her of a caged tiger, constricted by the boundary of the porch. She hadn’t expected him to be so upset. When he passed, she set her hand on his bare arm, stopping him. The muscles flexed beneath her palm. He was so strong. She had the sudden image of him hitting Sean, using those muscles to protect her. She pulled her hand away as if his skin burned her. “They’ve had enough loss. They’ve already become attached to you, and that’s only going to hurt them more when we leave.” His face softened as he stared, his lips slackening, his eyes growing tender. His face had already darkened under the sun. Faint lines fanned the corner of his eyes. He reached toward her and ran his finger down the side of her face. “Don’t leave.” His touch left a trail of fire. She pressed her spine to the column. How could she want to dive into his arms and run away at the same time? Inside a riot kicked up. She was back in the apartment on Warren Street, coming home from school, slipping in the door, unsure if she’d find her mom racing around the kitchen, slumped on the bathroom tile, or just gone. The same uncertainty roiled in her now. “I have to.” “This is their home. Your engagement is over,” he said gently. “Is what you’re going back to as important as what you’re leaving?” He didn’t have to say he meant them. Us. She shook her head, dislodging his hand. How had he turned this all around? She
- With my gaze on anything but Cade, I moved around the room but when Scout spotted me he trotted over. I knelt down and rubbed his ears. The silky fur between my fingers stirred memories.Scout’s tongue flicked under my chin. I leaned my head back and smiled.“He kissed you,” a little boy said. “That means he likes you.”“You think so?” I scrubbed my hands over Scout’s neck.“Yeah. Right, Cade? Dog kisses mean they like you.”I kept my eyes on Scout to avoid looking at Cade.“Yep, means he likes her.” He sat a few feet away and his words wrapped around me, his voice comforting.Scout lifted his paw and placed it on my knee.“What’s that mean, Cade?” The little boy pointed to my leg.“Hmm, maybe he doesn’t want her to leave.” I peeked over, and Cade met my gaze. “He likes her too much.”I looked away.“Maybe he loves her,” the little boy said in a singsong voice.Without missing a beat Cade said, “Maybe he does.”The little boy broke into a fit of belly laughs, and Cade scooted closer. He poked him playfully in the side. “Hey, what’s funny about that?”“He’s a dog. She’s a girl.”“That’s true,” Cade whispered. “But a pretty one, so can you really blame him?”The little boy giggled more. “That’s silly.”Scout nudged me with his wet nose and I cupped his face. “It’s okay, boy, the feeling is mutual.”Scout swiped his long tongue across my mouth. I grimaced and wiped my lips. “Not that mutual.”Cade lowered his voice and leaned slightly toward me. “And now he’s just rubbing it in.”The little boy laughed as he ran away, yelling something to his mom about the dog being in love with me.
- I was learning that among friends, a smile can be better than a belly laugh.
- Didn’t I talk about us like we were a thing from our first date? I fell in love with you that first time we went out for burgers and dancing. I love our weird dates and your belly laugh and how you see beauty in everything. Except yourself. And I love being the one to help you get there. I love the way you daydream I love the way you hold my hand. I can’t stop thinking about the way you taste.
- I’ve found out why people laugh. They laugh because it hurts. because its the only thing that’ll make it stop hurting.But find me something that makes you laugh, a joke, anything–but something that gave you a belly laugh, not a smile. Then we’ll see if there isn’t wrongness somewhere and whether you would laugh if the wrongness wasn’t there.
- Do you need help with anything?” he asked with a wicked arched brow. “Maybe with cookies for Santa.”Scowling because no one was here but us, I said, “You’re a bit late for that. Santa already came.”He hadn’t moved, but I knew better than to think he would. Flynn was a pro at filling the bubble air space that was meant to be private and personal. “And were you a good girl?” he asked.Awkwardly folding my arms over my chest, I said, “Not sure, I haven’t checked. But you needn’t look. We all know you are all bad.”Laughing, he said, “Yeah, well, there are other things worth unwrapping.”Grinding my teeth, I asked, “What, you didn’t get your Ho, Ho, Ho, last night?”Tossing back another full belly laugh, he said, “You know you’re kind of funny when you want to be.
- The men laugh at the witty line, but it is not a belly laugh. Beasley’s mouth is in a wide smile, but his eyes do not laugh, for there is little reason for joy. And if eyes are indeed mirrors of the soul, then they reflect an infinite sadness. I look away, afraid of what mine might reflect
- He stumbled, almost fell, and decided to sit down, with his back against the tunnel wall, his feet resting against the opposite wall. Roaring out of the morass of pity, terror, happiness, joy, sadness, elation that he had inherited – shooting forth from this void, the single sharp thought: She does not love me. It was almost more than he could take. But he was not the kind of person to fold, to crack, to be broken, and so instead, in those moments after the realization, he bent – and bent, and kept on bending beneath the pressure of this new and terrible knowledge. Soon he would bend into a totally new shape altogether. He welcomed that. He wanted that. Maybe the new thing he would become would no longer hurt, would no longer fear, would no longer look back down into the void and wonder what was left of him.She did not love him. It made him laugh as he sat there — great belly laughs that doubled him over in the dust, where he lay for a long moment, recovering. It was funny beyond bearing. He had fought through a dozen terrors all for love of her. And she did not love him. He felt like a character in a holovid – the jester, the clown, the fool.
- Live happy and enjoy your journey. Life is too short to not enjoy the ride ! Perspective really matters. Worry never solves any problems. Have belly laughs and chuckles instead
- Whenever I hurt myself, my mother saysit is the universe’s way of telling me toslow down. She also tells me to put somecoconut oil on it. It doesn’t matter what itis. She often hides stones underneath mypillow when I come home for the weekend.The stones are a formula for sweet dreamsand clarity. I dig them out from the streets,she tells me what each one is for. My throathurts, so she grinds black pepper into aspoonful of honey, makes me eat the entirething. My mother knows how to tie knotslike a ship captain, but doesn’t know howI got that sailor mouth. She falls asleepin front of the TV only until I turn it off,shouts, I was watching that! The sourdoughshe bakes on Friday is older than I am.She sneaks it back and forth across the countrywhen she flies by putting the starter in smallcontainers next to a bag of carrots.They think it’s ranch dressing, she giggles.She makes tea by hand. Nettles, slippery elm,turmeric, cinnamon- my mother is a recipefor warm throats and belly laughs. Onceshe fell off of a ladder when I was three.She says all she was worried about wasmy face as I watched her fall.
- Please allow me to offer you three pieces of advice:One: Be bold. Never miss an opportunity to let your brilliance shine and dazzle. Take that chance. Accept the challenge, or if the challenge doesn’t arise, make your own challenges.Two: Don’t settle for mediocrity. Find a dream and pursue it. Allow every decision you make to bring you closer in achieving that dream.And three: Have fun. Take time to play, because if you’re not having a good tear-squirting belly laugh, chances are you’re doing it wrong. I will not wish you good luck. I don’t believe luck to be a necessary ingredient for success. Instead, I wish you the wisdom to make good decisions. I’m sure you will be fabulous.Grace
- One day Billy’s kindergarten teacher phoned me at work. In a grave tone of voice she informed me Billy had been involved in a serious incident at school. She refused to elaborate but insisted I come to the school for a disciplinary meeting. My mind raced as I drove to the school. I wondered what type of behavior could possibly land a five-year-old in such hot water. When I arrived at the school, the teacher ushered me into a private office. Billy sat next to me—he looked scared. We both faced the grim faced teacher. She reminded me of the woman in the famous painting, “American Gothic.” She sat rigidly behind her desk, her eyes unblinking. The atmosphere was reminiscent of a criminal court proceeding. “Maybe Billy had accidentally killed someone.” I thought. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. The teacher’s face was stiff and emotionless. Finally, her lips moved and she intoned, “Billy, tell your father what you did.” Under the disapproving gaze of his teacher, Billy began his confession. “Well, I was eating lunch next to Suzy. We had green Jell-O. It was jiggling around. Suzy bent down to look at her Jell-O real close, and I pushed her face into it.” I barely choked off a belly laugh and quickly looked away, struggling for control. Somehow I sensed that Billy’s straitlaced teacher would frown upon me laughing uncontrollably about this issue. With Zen like concentration, I mastered my emotions and turned to face my son. My expression was serious, my tone was stern, my acting was impeccable, “Billy, how do you think that made Suzy feel?” “Bad.” said Billy. “That’s right.” I said. “I don’t want you to ever do such a thing again. Do you understand?” “Yes.” Billy meekly replied. I looked at the teacher. She seemed disappointed I hadn’t tortured my son with hot irons. Reluctantly, the she allowed us to leave. This incident was representative of many child-rearing situations I dealt with over the years.
- If you’re in need of a good belly laugh, then these Kathie Lee and Hoda GIFs are exactly what the doctor ordered!C’mon, KLG!
- Transforming a line like that makes it into a belly laugh instead of a laugh against us.
- For me, a hearty “belly laugh” is one of the beautiful sounds in the world.
- These videos all brought smiles to our faces, made us choke up with emotion or simply gave us a good old belly laugh when we needed it the