I came, I saw, I cracked up.

During our visit we sampled some of Seattle’s excellent restaurants. At one fine establishment, after the waiter refilled her water glass, Grace leaned forward and sipped the water without lifting the glass. “Next time I go on a date, I’m going to drink my water this way.” She made a show of deliberately placing both hands behind her back, stuck her face in her glass, and sipped the water until she could no longer reach it. Then she leaned further in, slurping noisily, and finally emerged with a wet nose.

I nodded my approval. “Great plan. When you bring a guy home to meet the family, we can all go through the ritual of placing our hands behind our backs and sticking our faces in our water glasses. Then we’ll see what he does . . . if he copies us to try to fit in, or lifts his glass the normal way.”

We chuckled as we imagined the scenario playing out. George mostly ignored us.

Another evening we went out to dinner with her friend Dustin. When the waiter refilled her glass, she glanced at me, stretched her hands out and then placed them behind her back. She stuck her face in the glass, sipping noisily. I laughed. Dustin, who knows her well, payed little attention, which made us both laugh harder.

Then Grace did a “magic trick.” She lifted her napkin so that it hid her water glass from Dustin’s view. With great flourish she said the magic words. “Veni vidi vici!” When she removed the napkin, the glass was gone.

Never mind that she kept glancing into her lap where she was trying to balance it. Never mind that we’d all seen her place it there in the first place. The trick was pathetic, but it was funny. “Grace,” I teased, “It’s not much of a trick if one of your hands is behind the napkin.”

Her big, blue eyes sparkled. “Okay, then. Watch THIS!” She held the napkin with both hands. “Veni, vidi, vici!”

After a brief glance at the glass and then her lap, she leaned forward behind the napkin, obviously trying to lift the glass with her teeth. I giggled. “There’s no way you’re going to be able to put it in your lap with your teeth. And why are you saying, ‘I came, I saw, I conquered’?”

She burst into laughter. “Is that what I was saying? Oh, man. You’re right. It just sounded like magic words to me.”

Before the evening was over, all four of us were placing our hands behind our backs and plunging our faces into our water glasses. We laughed at the spectacle we knew we must be making, but even more we laughed at the sheer delight of shared joy.

I treasure times like this with Grace. I love her smile, her dancing eyes, the musical sound of her laugh. Watching her merriment brings me as much pleasure as my own.

I suppose some people might be scandalized by our silly behavior in a nice restaurant. They might feel it’s not proper to stick one’s face in one’s water glass or to hide one’s water glass in one’s lap. It’s not decorous. These things are just not done.

I have only one thing to say about those people. They need to laugh more.

And now, friends, it’s past my bedtime, so I guess I’ll disappear. Good-night, sweet dreams, and . . . Veni, vidi, vici!