Talk about pressure. I know some of you reading this post at this moment are here because you're actually a reader of Jess' blog and she has just posted about how funny she finds me. You're here for funny, and I am fresh out. Maybe I save it all for Jess because honestly, I don't know anyone else that thinks I'm as funny as she does, I know I don't. In fact the thought has crossed my mind more than once that I used to be funny, I used to have a quick wit, I used to be a little silly. But be it age or stage or just the mild-numbness to life that we mommy's often develop to operate for years without a full night's sleep and to survive catching vomit in our hands...whatever the cause, I just don't have the same sense of humor.

But I will say that being with Jess makes me feel funny. She laughs freely with me and I love her laugh and I love the way she finds everything I say humorous; I find myself loosening up, feeling silly and forgetting that I need to look like my act is together...I just let go of being anyone but me. And I find some funny after all, not too far below the surface.

So, I guess, much like the chicken and egg dilemma...the question is, does my funny make Jess laugh or does her laugh make me funny?

By the way, Holly B, if Max is looking for Spidey's head, I put it on the mantle.