Today I Choose to be Amused – How to be Amused

There’s a moment of amusement from my past that still has my son Jesse howling with laughter 24 years later. Picture this: a 36-year-old me, zero carpentry experience, determined to build a fireplace mantle with my 12-year-old son. Three pieces of crown molding later (because apparently “measure twice, cut once” is for quitters), I enthusiastically grabbed the polyurethane to finish our masterpiece.

I polyurethaned the hell out of that mantle. It was beautiful. It was also when I realized I had polyurethane all over my hands and not a drop of mineral spirits in the house.

In a flash of brilliance that would make MacGyver weep, I put socks over my hands so we could safely drive to Home Depot. Once we arrived, however, it became crystal clear that the socks were now permanently adhered to my hands. The store clerk was howling. Jesse was howling. I was embarrassedly giggling while trying to explain my predicament through tears of laughter.

Many hours and much raw skin later, I freed my hands from their cotton prisons. But that story? It’s been amusing us for decades. And at 60, I’ve finally learned the secret: the best amusement comes from embracing our spectacular failures.

The Evolution of Finding Funny After 50

These days, I don’t take myself so seriously. I’m more self-deprecating and can find amusement in my mistakes and shortcomings. This shift was gradual – a slow letting go of thinking I have to be perfect, realizing it’s okay to be fallible.

Case in point: I recently destroyed our microwave with what we’ll call a “slight miscalculation.” I entered 80 minutes instead of 8 for a sweet potato. The microwave caught fire, melting plastic filled our house with toxic smoke, and as we were putting out the flames, Curtis kept asking what in the actual hell had happened.

I was laughing so hard I couldn’t even get the words out. Once he understood, he just stared at me, shaking his head and saying, “Oh, Babe.” It was a $400 joke, but my complete fallibility had me in stitches.

Twenty years ago, I would have been mortified. Now? It’s comedy gold.

Community Amusement: When Laughter Multiplies

Learning how to be amused isn’t a solo sport – it’s exponentially better when shared. When our entire family gets together, laughter abounds. Jesse is a natural comedian, ad-libbing off the cuff like no other.

One night, Jesse, Amy, Justin, Tre, Tyler, Curtis, some of Jesse’s friends and I were launching “business ideas” that devolved into naming personal lubricants. What started somewhat respectably with “The Slickening” and “Slide Hustle” degraded into unmentionable hilarity. We were gasping for breath as the names got wilder and more ridiculous. (Use your imagination – mine’s still recovering.)

But Jesse’s comedic genius truly shines in unexpected moments. When he worked at a company where I also worked, he decided to test their Philippine call center. Calling in with a Vincent Price accent, he tortured poor Andrew for 15 minutes about consuming 12 Garcinia Cambogia pills: “Andrew, Andrew, are you listening? I haven’t left my bathroom in three days. Andrew, can you help me?”

The call center manager brought the recording to our house. We cried laughing. Andrew, by the way, did a superlative job maintaining his professionalism while Vincent Price described his digestive distress.

Finding Amusement in the 10-12 Hour Grind

Working as CFO for 18 companies means long days, but even leadership meetings can become comedy shows. During particularly intense sessions, one coworker (who shall remain nameless to protect the innocent) and I text back and forth, making each other laugh.

This system works great until one of us is screen-sharing and our texts pop up for everyone to see. Nothing says “professional executive” like your message about someone’s ridiculous suggestion appearing in 40-point font during a financial presentation.

But here’s what I’ve learned: those moments of levity aren’t distractions – they’re lifelines. They remind us that we’re human, that perfection is overrated, and that sometimes the best response to stress is laughter.

Humor as Medicine: Finding Light in Dark Times

During Curtis’s recovery from emergency ostomy surgery, humor became our survival tool. When sepsis had him out of his mind in the ICU, he provided unintentional comedy gold. I’ll never forget when he urgently grabbed my hand:

“Babe, we have to sink this ship. But before we do, you need to cut a piece of the calf and give it to the captain.”

“What calf?” I asked, playing along.

He looked at me like I was an idiot. “The captain’s daughter’s calf!”

At that point, I wondered who I had married – apparently, a time-traveling pirate with very specific meat distribution requirements.

Later, when he was lucid, I’d regale him with his sepsis-induced adventures. We’d laugh until tears came, not because near-death experiences are funny, but because finding absurdity in terror is how we humans cope.

The Permission Slip We All Need

At 60, I enjoy watching comedy more and find humor in corny material that would have made younger me roll her eyes. Stand-up comedians discussing the realities of aging? Hilarious. Sitcoms with predictable jokes? Bring them on. Instagram reels of people my age attempting TikTok dances? Pure gold.

As I’ve gotten older, I’m less self-conscious and less embarrassed to be silly. This isn’t about becoming childish – it’s about remembering that playfulness isn’t reserved for children.

Creating Your Amusement Practice

Want to cultivate more amusement in your life after 50? Here’s what actually works:

1. Document Your Disasters Keep a running list of your spectacular failures. My sock hands and flaming sweet potato have brought more joy in retelling than any success story.

2. Find Your Comedy Accomplice Whether it’s a coworker who texts during boring meetings or a family member who shares your weird humor, having someone to laugh with multiplies the joy.

3. Say Yes to Silly When someone suggests naming fake products or doing impressions, join in. The ridiculous moments become the best memories.

4. Reframe Your Mistakes Instead of “I’m an idiot who nearly burned down the kitchen,” try “I’m a legend who discovered microwaves have limits.”

5. Share the Funny Tell your embarrassing stories. Watch how others light up and share their own. Suddenly, you’re not alone in your imperfection.

The Unexpected Wisdom of Amusement

Here’s what nobody tells you about learning how to be amused after 50: it’s not about finding funnier things to laugh at. It’s about changing your relationship with imperfection, embarrassment, and failure.

When I was younger, I thought being taken seriously meant never being silly. Now I know that the people who can laugh at themselves are the ones who navigate life’s challenges with the most grace. My polyurethaned sock hands taught me more about problem-solving than any business seminar. My microwave fire showed Curtis and me that we can find humor even in expensive mistakes.

Jesse still does impressions that leave us gasping for air. Family gatherings still devolve into inappropriate naming sessions. Work texts still accidentally appear on screen-shares. And somewhere in heaven, the captain is still waiting for his piece of calf.

Your Amusement Assignment

This week, I challenge you to:

1. Share your most embarrassing story with someone who needs a laugh
2. Start a funny text chain with a friend during a boring task
3. Say yes to something silly even if it feels undignified
4. Document one spectacular failure and find three things funny about it
5. Give yourself permission to laugh at corny jokes, bad puns, and your own mistakes

Remember: At this stage of life, we’ve earned the right to find amusement wherever we can. We’ve survived enough, achieved enough, and worried enough. Now it’s time to laugh enough.

The next time you find yourself in a predicament – whether it’s hands stuck in socks, a microwave on fire, or a spouse speaking in pirate riddles – ask yourself: “Will this make a great story?”

If the answer is yes, you’re already halfway to amused.

Join our community of women who’ve decided perfect is boring and hilarious is better. Share your best disaster story in the comments below. Bonus points if it involves failed DIY projects, kitchen catastrophes, or unexpected adhesive situations. Let’s laugh together – it’s cheaper than therapy and burns more calories.

P.S. Andrew from the Philippines, if you’re reading this, you deserve a raise. And therapy. Probably both.