With all due respect, you clearly haven’t read my work (nor should you have had to). While I don’t tease fun out specifically when I talk about the four basics, it’s a part of the social piece. I have a rude, crude, socially unacceptable and completely disrespectful sense of humor which is the last great weapon against life’s shit shows, especially aging.

Give my sexual assault history, given my history in general, humor is the only reason I’m still standing at 67. To wit, when I smashed my pelvis in two places, broke my left elbow and wrist and suffered my 16th concussion ( of 21, so far), I had the EMTS laughing so hard we all almost lost it. The EMT trying to get the needle into my arm — and I have bodybuilding earthworms for veins- was giggling so hard he kept missing. I write plenty about this elsewhere.

You can’t laugh, you can’t live. If you can’t find the absurdity in how your outdoor rug suddenly appears in your nostrils while your pubic hair goes white, honey, better check out now. Because it’s coming.

If I wrote the entire answer to this, Trent, my comment would be War and Peace. Kindly, you gotta show some leniency on Dear Readers somewhere.

Now I am off to get shots in my thumbs (fuck that hurts) shots in my right hip (fuck that hurts) and try to find my funny in the process. Aging sucks. Making fun of aging rocks. Then I am off for a hike, because aging well requires movement.

Written by

Horizon Huntress, prize-winning author, adventure traveler, boundary-pusher, wilder, veteran, aging vibrantly. I own my sh*t. Let’s play!

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