Laughing At Myself

Laughing at my foibles and myself wasn’t always easy.

I guess getting older has its advantages–I’m learning not to take everything quite so seriously anymore. I’m learning that unsettling or embarrassing moments fare better with laughter than frustration or angst.

I may be late to the game, but like they say, it’s never too late to learn.

Recently, friends invited me for a “spur of the moment” dinner. The reason for the invite was their houseguest–a relative here for a short visit. I didn’t want to miss seeing her.

The dinner was tasty and the evening was fun. During dessert (Godiva chocolate was involved), the houseguest asked permission to use the washing machine to do some laundry before leaving for the next part of her trip.

Earlier in the day, she had utilized an empty wastebasket in the guest room to hold her dirty clothes instead of putting them on the floor or back in her suitcase. It seemed like a good idea at the time. She didn’t know trash pickup was the next day.

You guessed it. Someone had emptied the trash and her laundry ended up in the barrel out on the street. Searching for her intimate apparel by flashlight was certainly unusual after-dinner entertainment. I’m sure you can imagine the humorous comments.

After the hostess and guest each apologized profusely, everyone laughed. The guest joined in saying it would be “a very funny story to tell her friends when she got home.”

It's the best laugh I’ve had since telling friends about my standing ovation at The Golf Club at Moffett Field.

It happened on the 8th hole. A grounds crew had moved off to the side as our foursome teed off. My drive was fantastic. I approached my second shot a bit on the smug side, until I realized I would have to hit directly in front of the crew. Now I can usually hold my own in a foursome, but I’m not great when other people watch.

You know that saying about pride? It's true.

I whiffed–twice. Yup, I completely missed that little white ball. The crew snickered and even offered friendly advice, which didn’t help. Then I whiffed a third time before somehow managing to hit a shot that rocked–onto the front edge of the green. The crew hooted and gave me a standing ovation. I bowed in appreciation and smiled despite my red face.

I wasn’t exactly laughing then, but now it’s a funny story.

I remember other times when I didn’t laugh. Lots of them.

Take the time I baked a pumpkin pie with a top crust and proudly took it to my in-law’s house for dinner, or my newlywed attempt at making homemade spaghetti sauce (from scratch) without realizing a cookbook misprint – it called for 3 tbsp. of salt! In case you’re not a cook–the only thing you need that much salt for is gargling.

How about the day my golf bag fell in a water hazard and all my clubs fell out and sank or the miscommunication on dress code for a formal dinner party (Capri pants and sandals–oops–I never read the small print).

Laughing in the moment makes moving on easier. My grandson is learning this the hard way–a temper fit rarely gets the result he’s looking for.

Laughter’s good for the spirit; it keeps things on an even keel. Stress is part of life and life is oh so serious sometimes. It’s easy to get sucked into negative space. It takes character, confidence and a certain degree of humility to poke fun at your own mistakes and missteps. It isn’t easy, but it’s worth it.

Laughing is contagious. It’s hard not to laugh once people around you start. My grandchildren prove that to me everyday. Sometimes, we just have to laugh.

So, I give myself permission to laugh as needed–aloud and loud.