The first column I ever wrote was about that famous love triangle involving Bill, “Hill” and Monica.
I learned that people love humor, especially if it’s dripping with sarcasm. They love it even more when it has a bratty bite. Through the years I pushed that proverbial envelope right to the edge, trying to see what I could squeeze into newsprint without being placed in an editor's “timeout” chair.
I'm still writing humor because I am in love with it. It feels like a public service, to create it and spread it around. Laughter is an amazing salve for the soul. And I live by my philosophy.
If you’re one of the sweet readers who has hung with me for a few years, you know that I have an unusually ugly track record with marriages, as in zero-for-3. I often tell people that I have dish towels longer than I have husbands. By the way, the divorce attorney is no longer on this chick’s speed dial. I am retired now from anymore love-gone-awful experiences.
My belief in humor was put to the test a few months ago when I was diagnosed with breast cancer. For weeks I was a walking snot festival. How could I laugh about a life challenge that took my breasts and left my chest a mutilated mess?
Then came the day I peeked down my pajama top at those little knots of skin. They sure didn’t look like boobs. But what did they look like? Who knows why, but I decided those two goofy skin pockets looked like the heads of cats that don't grow fur. In that moment, I started calling them my kitty heads.
It caught on with readers on my blog and social media. I got phone calls and emails, asking about my kitty heads. And every time that happened, it made me laugh. I am surviving breast cancer in exactly the same way I survive so many other hurtful moments in my life. I am laughing my way through it. And it is magic. So let’s all keep laughing. Together. Sometimes, laughter is the only something that reminds the heart to beat.
A former Southsider and an award-winning journalist and humor writer, Sherri Coner now resides in southwest Florida. To learn about her books for women and to join her on Facebook, visit www.sherriconer.com. She also speaks to women's groups. Email sherriconer.writer@gmail.com for more information.
I learned that people love humor, especially if it’s dripping with sarcasm. They love it even more when it has a bratty bite. Through the years I pushed that proverbial envelope right to the edge, trying to see what I could squeeze into newsprint without being placed in an editor's “timeout” chair.
I'm still writing humor because I am in love with it. It feels like a public service, to create it and spread it around. Laughter is an amazing salve for the soul. And I live by my philosophy.
If you’re one of the sweet readers who has hung with me for a few years, you know that I have an unusually ugly track record with marriages, as in zero-for-3. I often tell people that I have dish towels longer than I have husbands. By the way, the divorce attorney is no longer on this chick’s speed dial. I am retired now from anymore love-gone-awful experiences.
My belief in humor was put to the test a few months ago when I was diagnosed with breast cancer. For weeks I was a walking snot festival. How could I laugh about a life challenge that took my breasts and left my chest a mutilated mess?
Then came the day I peeked down my pajama top at those little knots of skin. They sure didn’t look like boobs. But what did they look like? Who knows why, but I decided those two goofy skin pockets looked like the heads of cats that don't grow fur. In that moment, I started calling them my kitty heads.
It caught on with readers on my blog and social media. I got phone calls and emails, asking about my kitty heads. And every time that happened, it made me laugh. I am surviving breast cancer in exactly the same way I survive so many other hurtful moments in my life. I am laughing my way through it. And it is magic. So let’s all keep laughing. Together. Sometimes, laughter is the only something that reminds the heart to beat.
A former Southsider and an award-winning journalist and humor writer, Sherri Coner now resides in southwest Florida. To learn about her books for women and to join her on Facebook, visit www.sherriconer.com. She also speaks to women's groups. Email sherriconer.writer@gmail.com for more information.
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