Among Tracy and Jody’s  screeners was the 2017 Amazon series, “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel”.  It was exactly Phyllis’ sensibility.   Over-the-top, clever, nostalgic, Jewish cultural.   I watched the 8 episodes, and I knew precisely when and even how she’d have laughed.   And it is really good.  She’d have adored it.   She loved Joan Rivers, Jackie Mason, Don Rickles, all of whom we went to see, and none of whom I laughed at.  She’d tell me, “You’re no fun.”

Forlorn cracked her up.  Reading Eeyore in Pooh, watching Sue in “The Middle”, or Regis in the morning.   Adorable animals were another laugh treasure.   Those cutesy cat videos.  Or really any animal that bit someone in the balls.  Dirty jokes, husband jokes, and Bush jokes too.  I didn’t laugh at any of these.  And begat, “You’re no fun.”

And she was Mrs. Maisel.  After all, I was the big, bad wolf who lost the bronzed baby shoes, yelled when she was barfing and pregnant, and took her from the sand to the asphalt, from where her students rode horses to school to where her students did drive-by’s to school.  And those were just the mountain peak of “you won’t believe my husband…” stories she loved to tell.   I never once took offense. I cherished when she laughed.  And if she lost the handlewhen I walked into the door, all the cuter, because she would absolutely lose it.  Bonkers.  In tears and unable to stop.  I know the momentary thought balloon popping over her head was “I can’t believe I married this kuni lemel.”  I never could believe it either.   And loved it.