Why, yes, I DID hike the AT

"Getting to the top of the mountain is optional. Getting down is mandatory." - Ed Viesturs (Appalachian Trail Thru-Hiker famous quotes)

On Saturday, I hit the road with a trusted companion, my two faithful canines, a pack full of equipment, food and wine, and high spirits.  We were on our way out of town for an overnight hiking adventure and I was terribly optimistic and not all concerned that I'm a slightly overweight, still somewhat out-of-shape (in spite of various halfhearted efforts), forty-something with badly arthritic knees.

I figured all of that would work out on the trail.

We headed first off to Apple Orchard Falls just north of Roanoke, VA.  Our (initial) plan was to hike the trail and camp there overnight before heading out in the morning to a day hike of the McAfee Knob, the most photographed spot on the Appalachian Trail (AT).  We ended up doing a quick-and-back 1.4 mile hike UP to the mostly overrated Apple Orchard Falls and then a brief maybe half mile down the trail to check out potential campsites.  Because we could STILL SEE our vehicle from the campsites, my companion thought maybe we should go ahead and drive to the McAfee Knob trail, hike a 1.3 mile hike to the first AT shelter and camp there.

I was totally game.  I'm always up for adventure.  And we'd done less that 2 miles (without packs) at that point so I was feelin' fresh and froggy.  And Sparky and Mr. McDougal were ready for anything we wanted to do.  They are dogs, after all, and don't have a say.

If you don't know about the AT, then you probably either a) don't live in one of the 14 states it crosses or b) don't give a flying flip about hiking.  The Appalachian Trail is kind of a not-to-be-realized dream of mine (see first paragraph of this blog for the reasons why).  I have read books about it and follow the tails of thru-hikers with absolute fascination.  To lose oneself somewhere on the AT only to find an improved version of you at the end is probably only one of the myriad of reasons people attempt the journey each year. I SO WANT to be one of those people.

The total length of the trail is approximately 2,200 miles.  The majority of the trail is wilderness and begins in Spring Mountain, Georgia and meanders through North Carolina, Tennessee, Virginia, West Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, New York, Connecticut, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Vermont and ends at Mt. Katahdin in Maine.  The trail is marked along the way with white marks on trees like this:

Storied heroes attempt to hike the entire length of the trail in one season.   They are known as thru-hikers.  Thru-hikers typically spend about five to seven months hiking the trail in its entirety, often risking life and limb to do so. 

I am ALL ABOUT IT.

So, we landed at the parking area for McAfee Knob parking lot at around 3:30 p.m. on Saturday.  I was SUPER excited because I've never hiked even a small piece of the AT and I was eager to say "Yes, I DID hike the AT" just like I can tell people in TRUTH that I "went to Harvard" because I did, in fact, walk on that campus one day.

Let me set the scene a little bit more:

• We had already hiked a little more than 2 miles that day, with no packs but with dogs.
• My pack weighs approximately 35-40 pounds with all gear, food, and wine needed.  My guy's pack weighed probably 10 pounds more than mine because he is, first and foremost, a true Southern gentleman and carries ALL of the heavy stuff like the tent and all the cooking equipment.
• We had two and half bottles of water with a water filter ready to filter more water at our campsite.  Our bottles were each 32 ounces.  So we had about 70 ounces of water for the two of us and the two dogs to make it the 1.3 miles to the first AT shelter (because you can ONLY camp at designated campsites on the AT). 
• We needed to hike 1.3 miles to the first shelter.  If that didn't work out, there was another shelter another 1.4 miles away.  So, at WORST, we were looking at 2.7 miles with full packs.  Uphill.
• We had about four hours of daylight to go.  Our guidebook told us that the ENTIRE hike to McAfee Knob was approximately four miles and estimated that you can hike to the Knob and BACK in four hours.  For a bit of foreshadowing here, I am going to FIND the author of that guidebook.  I will find him.  

And tomorrow, I will tell you why. For now, I've got to rest.  Damn.

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Still on the Outside Looking In

“The past,' he thought, 'is linked with the present by an unbroken chain of events flowing one out of another.' And it seemed to him that he had just seen both ends of that chain; that when he touched one end the other quivered.”
― Anton Chekhov

I am often surprised by the profound sense of loneliness I feel when I am surrounded by people.  During my much anticipated high school reunion in early October, I was flooded by the realization that I felt disconnected and disjointed in the midst of all the frivolity.

I realized, standing in the middle of a room with the pounding swell of dance beats and laughing former classmates, that I still, after all this time, do not belong.  I didn't know the great majority of the people who were at the reunion with me during high school.  Oh, I could recognize some names and faces but, I'll be honest, as a teenager I probably only had had an honest-to-goodness CONVERSATION with a very small handful of the people at the event.  And even THOSE conversations were, at best, perfunctory.  In high school, I wasn't interested in getting to know people and I never really truly "fit"...I never had a place...in the grand scheme.

And now, even in my forties with all my enlightened perspective and my improved sense of self, I am still very much an outsider.

So what did I do?  I fled to my comfort zone. 

I sought out the friends I have made over the last several years and I settled into them.  My discomfort vanished and I enjoyed talking to them.  I had FUN with them.  They know me.  But I did not venture out into the crowd.  I smiled shyly if I absolutely HAD to go inside but I ducked my head down and avoided eye contact if at all possible.  None of them, I feel assured, knew who I was.  And I certainly didn't know them.

I realized something that Saturday:  there are times in our lives when, no matter HOW well-prepared we are and no matter how eager we are to prove to ourselves that we are dramatically different, we simply ease back into the roles that we were programmed to long ago.

I was programmed to blend in.

So, now that we're past the reunion, here's what I want those people to know:

• I didn't know how to be a part of you back then.  And I still don't.  I have trouble fitting in to groups.  I work so much better in a one-on-one situation.  I am INTERESTED in you.  I want to learn how you like your coffee and I want to know what you wanted to be when you grew up and how that all turned out.  But I don't know how to be a part of your groups.  I am not great at small talk and I don't know what to do when I'm faced with a big giant wave of you.
• I am not a bitch.  Well, OK, SOMETIMES I am.  But when I seem like I'm standoffish, it's really because I don't know how to connect with you.  I don't know what you want from me but what I want from YOU is to feel your vibe.  That sounds really hippie-like, I know.  But I desire strong connections from people.  If I think I can't get that or if I simply don't know how to approach it, I shut down.  And I appear standoffish.  But it's just that I don't know how to reach you.
• I can be clique-ish.  I'm not talking about the Mean Girls kind of clique.  But I retreat into who I know...BEHIND who I know...because I know them.  Because I feel accepted there.  And I can be MYSELF there.  And I don't want to put on some charade for you because, above all else, I HAVE to be myself.  And I have to be accepted for that.  It makes me tired to think about putting myself on the line only to face the possibility of being rejected.  It hurts my feelings when people don't like me...but it's SO HARD for me to truly get to know people because I have to take down ALL my protective barriers.  (And, quite honestly, those barriers are incredibly well-built and time-tested.)
• I'm not great at small talk.  I want to deeply connect with people.  So, sitting around talking about the weather makes me very, very uncomfortable.  I CAN do it but when I'm making small talk there is only a very small piece of me that's present...almost like a Kelly Veneer. Unfortunately, small talk is how people tend to make friends.  So, that's probably why I have like (what?) maybe four friends??
• I vow to do better.  And that's all ANY of us can do anyway, right?  

 I look forward to our post-reunion committee meeting...because I'm starting to KNOW some of those people.  And I LIKE them.  And, maybe, someday, somehow, I will feel like a part of them.


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Hello World

“It's so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone.”
― John Steinbeck

I woke up this morning at 2:48 a.m.  It felt like one of those nights where I wouldn't be returning easily to the Land of Nod, so I came downstairs and let the dogs out.  I opened my back door and saw this floating over the trees:

OK, I am NOT a photographer.  And this is from my iPhone...but you get the gist, right?  It's a full moon.

When I saw it....that bright light reflected off that big cold spinning rock in the sky...my breath caught and I exclaimed (into the dark, to no one at all except maybe Sparky and Mr. McDougal), "Oh!"

And life, for me, began again.

I've been absent for the last half of a month from my own little Blog World because I've been...sad.

There are a myriad of reasons for my sadness and I won't go into them here and now because, quite frankly, I've already WRITTEN about them...I'm just not going to share them.  I WILL say that I have really struggled with the idea that people, as a group and sometimes individually, are often just...CRAPPY.  And I won't claim that I'm "depressed" because I KNOW people who have been/are clinically depressed and they really have a hard time getting out of bed.  I respect them too much to equate my little pity party with their true suffering.  So I won't over-dramatize it (I KNOW...so unlike me) but I will say that life has been bringing me down.  And I've been a Debbie Downer.  I've been a bitter old lady.

When I'm sad, I become introverted.  I retreat far into myself...only truly communicating with a few select people and pretty much ignoring everyone else because I simply cannot give time to anyone else while I'm muddling through my sadness.  It's like having the flu...I don't want to INFECT anyone else by spreading my sad mucky-muck germs.

Until I saw that moon this morning.

And, like an engine that's been sitting too long with bad gas, I felt a little hiccup and a sputter and then I felt the smile come back into my heart.  That, my friends, is a very good feeling.

I'm going back to the land this weekend.  Back to the earth.  I'm putting on my backpack and hitting the trail for some hardcore primitive camping (I mean, OK, I will include wine but it will be in a box and, therefore, primitive).  That will only make my smile broader...to breathe in mountain air in the fall and to sleep on the earth for a night or so with someone I love.  And piece by piece, things will fall back into place and I'll forget about how crappy people are and my rose-colored glasses will once again rest firmly on the bridge of my nose. 

But for now, I'm going to sit here and write a little more and drink my coffee.  And ponder what the chances are of me getting back to sleep tonight.

Welcome back, me.  :)


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Getting Old Sucks

“Women may be the one group that grows more radical with age.”
― Gloria Steinem 

 There was a time when I could have intravenously injected straight caffeine into my bloodstream and I STILL would have been able to get a good 10 hours of uninterrupted, dream-infused sleep.  Today, I believe I had a SIP of coffee at about 4pm yesterday afternoon and I've been wide awake since 3am.

42.  Magic for Jackie Robinson.  Me? Not so much.

My "girl doctor" (which is just a polite way of saying "gynecologist"...I can't call her my OB/GYN because the OB part of me doesn't even exist in dreams anymore) told me on my last visit a couple of years ago that I just can't take the caffeine anymore with my aging system.

My aging system.  My aging system.  (It echoes, doesn't it?)

I don't like to think of myself as getting old.  In my HEAD, I'm easily 12.  My favorite ALL-TIME joke (if I used names in this blog, I would totally give a shout out to DT who provides a public service every June with her own personal Corny Joke Month) is:

Q.  What does a nosy pepper do?
A.  (PLEASE include finger wagging and head shaking)  It gets JALAPEÑO business! 

Is it really appropriate for women over the age of 40 to guffaw hysterically EVERY TIME they hear a joke they've told for about two years?  No.  No, it isn't.  But I do it.

I realized not long ago while purchasing adult beverages at my handy local liquor store that I am EXACTLY TWICE the legal drinking age.  I have lived two lifetimes of legal drinking.  Somehow, I did not celebrate 42 with nearly the same enthusiasm as I put into 21.  If I'd THOUGHT about it earlier, I would have thrown an amazing party for 42.  "Woo hoo!  I'm legal TWICE OVER!"
 
No, I don't FEEL 42 in my head.  My body, however, begs to differ.

• When I roll out of bed in the morning, it's now less of an actual roll and more of a grunt, groan, shove.  NOTHING I do is graceful.  In my defense, I have never been graceful but I had hoped that maybe grace would come to me on the back nine.  So far, it's eluded me.
• I actually wince when I step onto the floor in the morning.  This morning my right foot had this weird shooting pain right in the arch.  Every morning it feels like my feet are actually NEW...as if they've been screwed on by some twisted cobbler who visits in the night like an old person's Tooth Fairy.
• My breasts actually point down.  Sure, they sustained not one but TWO human lives and their usefulness has passed but STILL...I am somewhat concerned that those jokes of tying them together and tripping over them and tucking them into the waistband of my pants may actually come true.  
•  I am seriously concerned that I will suffer from female pattern baldness.  My hair is SUPER thin.  And it comes out in clumps.  I'm going to have to look into that comb-over thing, I just KNOW IT.  
• My knees creak and moan with every step now because the cartilage I DID have there apparently packed its bags and left for warmer climates.  I have seriously considered shooting Jell-O straight into my knee joints because I just feel like Jell-O has the consistency I need.  And there would be a pleasant fruity odor wafting up every time I moved.
• My eyes (which underwent some very expensive Lasik surgery years ago) can no longer read the newspaper without the assistance of reading glasses.  Fortunately, they make reading glasses in fun colors so I'm not totally upset about that.
• I have some SERIOUSLY WEIRD stuff cropping up on my skin.  Have you ever looked at baby skin?  It's so beautifully SMOOTH and NEW.  My skin gets these strange bumps and lumps and dry patches.  It's all different colors now.  I now resemble some kind of an odd skin quilt that some blind person patched together.
• My friends and I now discuss our various maladies on the phone. Classic.  Where is my rocking chair and WHAT DID I DO with those knitting needles?

I realize that (God willing) I have a long way to go on the Back Nine.  But I truly do not want to grind to a slow halt.  I would much prefer to go with all my bodily functions in (mostly) working order.  I keep promising myself that I will eat healthier (I do, for a week or two) and work out consistently (I do, for a week or two) to build strong muscles that will carry me through the next twenty, thirty years (God willing).

But, for now, I'm going to drink my coffee, turn on the morning news,  and yell at the weather man.  I'll save the twerking for another day. 

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Facing the Current Me During Reunion Time

“Oh, how I regret not having worn a bikini for the entire year I was twenty-six. If anyone young is reading this, go, right this minute, put on a bikini, and don't take it off until you're thirty-four.”
                                                ― Nora Ephron

Next Saturday, I will be attending my 24th high school reunion along with the class of 1988 (their 25th).  I have spent the morning uploading high school pictures from various alumni to Flickr for use in the video to flash on the screen throughout the evening.  And I have been focusing on how small my waist was.  How thin my arms were.  Other than the big GIANT 80's hair and the bushy caterpillar eyebrows...I was SMOKIN' HOT.

Circa 1988 vs. Circa 2012.  Sigh.  The old me.  And the new.

Well, my BODY was smokin' hot.  And I certainly do wish I had flaunted it more.  And I know that so many of us look back and wish for the return of those carefree kids in those photos with the thin physiques and the wide-open futures.  But as I look back at these photos LONGING for the return of that effortlessly skinny girl (I ate COOKIES for lunch, for goodness sake..which may be how I came to be so much...thicker), I realized something:  that girl no longer exists.  Sure, I've added (a lot) of pounds since those days.  But that's not the ONLY thing that's different.

I am (almost) a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT PERSON.

• I am more confident.  That girl was a mouse.  She thought she was ugly, too skinny, not smart enough, never funny.  
• I am wiser.  That girl made poor decisions...ALL THE TIME.  She leaped without looking (OK, I still do that a lot) and she sacrificed herself continually.
• I am less alone.  That girl walled people off.  She kept them at arm's length for fear of being hurt even more than she already had been.
• I speak my mind.  That girl was argumentative, sure.  But she didn't speak the truth.  She debated but she did not share.
• I am more aware.  That girl had blinders on about most things. She had a streak of idealism but she never really paid attention.
• I seek a higher power.  That girl was convinced that God did not exist.  She knew better.

I know people often don't attend reunions because they fear people will look at them and wonder what happened.  They might have bigger, softer bodies.  They may not have the career they thought they should have.  They may be markedly different from those days in high school.

But isn't that the POINT of growth?  

I don't WANT to remain stagnant.  Sure, I'd like to make healthier choices to get back to my thinner self but, you know what?  I am not defined by how I LOOK.

I. Am. Not. Defined.  By. How. I. Look.

None of us are.  We TRY to define people in any way we can.  We label:  fat, skinny, white, black, Asian, gay, straight, blue-collar, white-collar, short, tall, athletic, dumpy, disabled, and on, and on, and on...

When will we be judged by the content of our character?  Martin Luther King's speech echoed once again in every house in our country with a television just a few weeks ago.  When will we start living his dream?  I am going to my reunion next week.  I am proud of who I have become (even though, MAN, I still have a long way to go...) and I look forward to the event.  I don't look the same.  I don't act the same.  I am not the same.  And I hope that I never, ever STAY the same.

If you like my blog, share it.  Or Like my FB page to get updates.  Or make a comment below.  If you don't like it, well...just try not to hurt my feelings.  I'm sensitive.




 

We are Coddlers (or, How We are Not Doing Kids Any Favors)

“We may not be able to prepare the future for our children, but we can at least prepare our children for the future.”
                                             ― Franklin D. Roosevelt

At the risk of sounding like the crotchety old lady I am almost certain to become, I have to say that we have gone too far in the pendulum of parenting.

When I was a kid, we got RIBBONS for Field Day.  There were many field days when I came home with nary a red, blue or green ribbon to boast about.  I received one blue ribbon EVER on field day...for the three-legged race (and, to this day, I have no idea how....perhaps it's because I'm ACCUSTOMED to being someone with two left feet).  There were other kids, the natural athletes, who received FAR more than their "fair share" of ribbons and, boy, did I sometimes envy them.  Look at all those ribbons, I would marvel to myself.  Next year, I'll try harder...and maybe I'll get one of those ribbons for myself!

Now, ALL of our children are winners, right?  They are ALL EXACTLY THE SAME!

WRONG.

They are NOT all winners.  They're not.  Some kids are better at things than others.  Some kids have to work really hard to FIND their natural talents.  EVERYONE SHOULD NOT GET A TROPHY.  (Participation trophies are my pet peeve.) 

We teach our kids that they're great at EVERYTHING.

Newsflash:  they are NOT.  

Just as WE are not good at everything, our children watch us try and fail.  They watch us carefully to see how we handle our own mistakes and our own setbacks.  So why are we teaching THEM that they are so amazing that they won't have setbacks? Why are we teaching them that EVERYTHING they try they deserve a trophy for?

If they're already so good at everything...what are they going to DREAM ABOUT?  What are they going to reach for?  How are they going to learn to strive to achieve if we say to them every single time, "THAT was AMAZING!"?  Are we still going to be telling them that everything they do is amazing when they're still comfortably reclined on our furniture when they're 35 because life with us is so....easy?

Trust me, I am FAR from being a non-coddler.  My kids, like all the rest, do too little for too much reward.  They have too many "things" and they want for so little that they have a difficult time coming up with a wish list for birthdays or holidays.  SERIOUSLY.  They are heavily indulged children...much to my chagrin.  I want their self-esteems to be healthy.  I do.  But they know how much I loathe participation trophies.  And they know that the words "Bonus question" on any test or homework assignment read "Thing 1" or "Thing 2" because I WANT them to go above and beyond.  And I tell them to find things that they enjoy...things that they are passionate about...because they are not going to be good at everything.

If we continue on this parenting road we are on, the future will be bleak (but so very, very EVEN).  I'm telling you.

The World in 2040

• War.  If we (God forbid) have to go to war, our children will drive to the battlefield with ergonomically fitted gear.  From their heated tank seats, they will engage the enemy.  "You are not being nice."  (See?  They are USING THEIR WORDS just like we taught them!  Proud, proud parenting moment!)  And, because even the game of Tag was outlawed at their elementary school (true story), they don't even know how to run away.  BOOM!  Blown to smithereens.
• Business.  We will accompany Jimmy and Susie to their boardroom meetings where we will sit beside them and speak up for them when they are addressed. 
• Random Business Guy:  "Thing 1, the projections for this quarter are dismal."  
• Thing 1: "Well..."
• Doddering Old Mom: "I'm sorry, I don't think he understood that what the company needed was to MAKE MONEY.  He was expressing his creativity and I don't think that profit should impact his life choices."
• Boss:  "You're fired.  You AND your idiot mother." 
• The Office of the President.  OK, there won't be just ONE president anymore because that would signify that one person might be BETTER than everyone else.  We'll have a Presidential Team.  They'll meet to have coffee and doughnuts.  Sugarless doughnuts.  The Presidential Team will decide to do awesome things like make EVERYONE the same color.  Maybe they'll choose a nice shade of green.  No differences means no conflict, right?  Wait in line to get your new shade!  And they'll decide that all of us should have equal amounts of money...JUST like in Monopoly.  Anyone who starts showing initiative and getting ahead will be moved back to the starting position...along with EVERYONE ELSE.
• Neighborhoods.  All existing houses will be removed.  They will be replaced by neighborhoods with perfectly leveled streets that are all EXACTLY the same.  House numbers will be removed because lower (or higher) numbers might indicate differences which could be interpreted positively or negatively.  Homes will include the exact same furniture in the exact same colors so that no one could possibly envy anyone else.  All the green people who live inside will be the exact same gender and sexual orientation combination.  Children will be assigned as necessary when procreation is permitted.  Children will be painted green upon arrival. 
• Food.  The Day New York Banned the Super Size will be heralded as a national holiday.  All portion sizes will be mandated by federal law.  All MEALS will be mandated by law.  Mondays will include chicken, two (approved) vegetables, gluten-free bread and an unflavored water (no ice).  Tuesdays will be vegan days, etc.  Drinking and smoking will be banned.  But pharmaceuticals will be promoted extensively.  Meals will be accompanied by mood regulation pills.  

Do we really want our kids to all be the same?  Do we really not want one kid to stand out?  Do we not want the rest to find their OWN passions?  What are we doing? 

More important, perhaps, is the question:  HOW DO WE STOP?

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We Should All Make Bucket Lists. Today.

“The only wishes that will ever change you are the kind that may, at any moment, eat you whole.”
                                                ― Janette Rallison

I woke with a start this morning at 3:18 a.m. trying to make sense of whatever garbled dream I had been having.  It isn't unusual for me to be wide awake in the pre-dawn hours but this morning's early rousing was accompanied by a slight panic state:

I still have SO MUCH LEFT TO DO.

People who are close to me know that I have no true fear of death.  It's why I can jump out of a plane without a second thought or walk alone in dark cities at 2 a.m.  It's why I'm OK with leaving doors unlocked (Attention potential burglars:  I no longer DO THIS.  Thing 1 gets annoyed when I don't lock the doors).  It's how I can make middle-of-the-night trips to that sketchy WalMart when I can't sleep.  It's not even that I'm not scared, though;  I relish the thought of dying.  I LOOK FORWARD to it because I think THEN...FINALLY...I will have all the answers.  I am NOTHING if not a Little-Miss-Wanna-Know-It-All.  The advent of the Google age has given me tremendous abilities to find answers to all of life's questions.

BUT...I'm not ready yet, according to this morning's brief panic attack. I still have a LOT left to do!  I'm not talking about places I need to go...those may number in the thousands; my travel bucket list is only limited by the fact that the world itself isn't infinite.  I'm talking about the STUFF I need to do.

Now, I HAVE been skydiving (once...and I WILL be going again...soon!), Rocky Mountain climbing (yes, I've been to the peak of Colorado's highest mountain) and I certainly went more than 2.7 seconds on that mechanical bull at Arizona Pete's.  But I have SO MUCH MORE to go! 

1. Go on a cattle drive.  (What a fun thing to start the list with! I mean a REAL one...camping out under the stars on a roll of blankets and eating beans out of a tin can warmed on an open fire.)
2. Speak at a commencement ceremony.  Even if it's only at the local old folks home for those people who graduated from basket weaving class.
3. Speak more than just English.  My limited "necessito dos cervezas, por favor" doesn't count.
4. Learn to fly fish.  In Alaska.  While high. (On LIFE.  Sheesh.)
5. Take my kids on a cross-country adventure.  We've done the Northeast.  I need to be hardcore and take them all the way to the west coast.  In a car.
6. Get my pilot's license. Tell everyone I have it.  Everyone.  Arby's drive-thru:  "Will that be all today?"  "Yeah, hey...did you know I have my PILOT'S LICENSE?"
7. Talk to my kids about sex.  Again.  Ad nauseum.  Not because I haven't done it before but because they HATE IT SO MUCH it warrants doing over and over.
8. Watch the stars out of one of those REALLY BIG telescopes.  Like the professional kind.
9. Train to be an astronaut.
10. Talk about running for president.  Develop a following.  Drop out before they discover that I wear ladies underwear.  (Oh, wait...that's OK, isn't it?)
11. Live in a house that stays clean for longer than two days.  Once.
12. Plan my funeral.  Include a disco ball and a recording of Whitney Houston singing "I Will Always Love You."  Ensure that fresh popcorn will be served...by clowns.
13. Hire a marching band to make some grand announcement.  (My life has never included an actual grand announcement.  Maybe I should make that next...)
14. Figure out something grand to announce.
15. Sleep the entire night for more than three days in a row.
16. Get married in Vegas.  When I'm 70. 
17. Tell CEO of Starbucks he has changed my life.  For good.  
18. Take over loudspeaker at big box retailer.  Sing "Sweet Caroline."  Ask everyone to sing along.
19. Get healthy.  Make it stick for more than a week. 
20. Become a person who says, "I think I'd like that" instead of "OMG, that is the BEST IDEA EVER!" when someone asks if I'd like butter/sugar/to go to a movie.  I think the former type of person must be more stable in general.  Not that I would know.

If you like my blog, share it.  Or Like my FB page to get updates.  Or make a comment below.  If you don't like it, well...just try not to hurt my feelings.  I'm sensitive.