Bucket List 2011

Doc. B. called me at work a few weeks ago and asked me if I’d ever made up a bucket list. I responded in the negative but said I’d always wanted to. I spent the rest of my day, well, breaks and lunch, working on ideas. When we came home that night, we opened a bottle of wine and shared what items had made it onto our lists.

What made my list? Okay, if you must know, here you go. And by the way, they are in no particular order, I’m just numbering them since I’m sick of bullets. I live in Atlanta for goodness sakes!

1. Watch a match, in person, at Wimbledon.

2. Learn how to ride a motorcycle.

3. Brew a batch of my own beer or wine.

4. Read at least 25 of the top 100 classics.

5. Travel the length of Route 66 in a 1964 convertible Corvair – color doesn’t matter but light blue would be nice.

6. Learn Spanish by doing an immersion course in another country.

7. Attend the Sundance Film Festival.  Bonus bucket points if I bump into Robert Redford or Ashton Kutcher.  Triple bonus bucket points if they give me the evil eye.  Quadruple bonus bucket points if they smile.

8. Wear a big old Southern Baptist Church hat to the Kentucky Derby and bet on the long shot.

9. Open a Swiss bank account.  Even if it's just with the minimum balance.

10. Pick up where my family has left off on researching and keeping up with our family tree.

11. Shave my head – or at least a buzz cut. Maybe when Pam at the hair salon finally agrees to let me go gray?

12. See a psychic – I know – you probably can’t believe I haven’t already seen one.

13. Witness the Northern Lights – doesn’t matter from where.

14. Go to Oktoberfest in Germany and hike in Bavaria (maybe hike first, then beer?).

15. Write a book. Bonus bucket points = write a book and get it published. Triple bonus bucket points = write a book, get it published, and get on Oprah’s book club list – oh wait, will she still do that now that she’s retired?

16. Change my name – first, middle, last or all three – just because I can. Heck, it’s the one thing the legal system might actually let me do.

17. Fly first class to anywhere outside of the continental USA – preferably somewhere in Europe. Maybe that trip to Wimbledon or Germany?

18. Find something to be passionate about. Wonder what that will be? Checking off items on my bucket list perhaps?

What’s on your list? Any of these?

My Love-Hate Relationships

Ruby-Crowned Kinglet?

I’m so grateful to have my J - O - B, but I'm not so much lovin' on it right now. In today’s economy, it makes little sense to spew "I hate my job" tirades when I have friends who don’t have them or have one that doesn’t pay half of what they previously earned. This caused me to start thinking of the many love-hate relationships in my dolce vita.  Or is it dulce vita? No, it’s dolce vita and dulce de leche – either way – they both translate to excellente!

Let’s take birds for example. In general, I would have to say that I love, Love, LOVE birds. Just this week I spotted the above bird that everyone believes is a ruby-crowned kinglet. I specifically ended my 40 minute jog with a stop at the Sugarcreek garden just to see if I might stand still for a few moments and greet a sparrow, a wren, or a chicken hawk. Within minutes, my ears were drawn to rooting-around sounds in a pile of brush. My eyes then focused on lovely shades of green reflecting off of the cutest little bird.  He had a red spot on the nape of his neck. I say "he" and "his" because for some reason, unlike with humans, male birds get to be pretty. The little guy even stalled long enough for me to get out my iPhone and snap his picture. So when I say I love birds, I think you get it. And right at this very moment, I love that there’s a bright-red boy cardinal sitting in the bird bath...sharing space with a little girl house finch.

So with all this birdie, birdie affection, what on terra firma could be my love-hate relationship with them? One word – STARLINGS. I hate that these ugly, mean, flying and screeching machines that use and abuse the eaves of our home to get it on, hire a doula, and ultimately birth more devil Starlings (and for those of you in therapy now, or in the recent past, is this shadow-self stuff?). When I say eaves I really mean attic. And when I say attic, I really mean the spot directly above Doc. B’s meditation space. There is absolutely no way I could muster the equanimity, let alone the concentration, required to emit thoughts of loving kindness with Starlings feeding their spawn directly above my freshly cut and colored head of hair. Yes, there’s room in the inn but this ain’t no nativity scene.  They're supposed to eat insects but apparently they don't even do that - we were still "forced" to build a screened porch to keep them AND the skeeters away.

Perhaps as I begin to mellow in my old age I’ll find the patience to share square footage with these annoying creatures. After all, they and their ancestors have resided here longer than we have.  Our contractor's carpenter had to scare them out of the house over ten years ago during our renovation…yet they keep coming back...damn squatters (or are we the squatters?). Plus, I’d bet one year’s worth of my J – O – B salary that there are, and will continue to be, days when I’ve been described as an annoying creature.




Clarice the Starling


More of my love-hate relationships:

• I love Elizabeth Gilbert and Hollis Gillespie but hate that I covet their writing skills.

• Along those same lines, I love writing (including this blog), but hate that I can’t get it together to write a book.

• I Love the cats but hate scooping the poop.

• Along those same lines, I love going to the hair salon to hear the joke of the month, but hate that I’ll be paying for it until I decide it’s okay to be gray. Joke of the month: knock, knock…who’s there?... smell mop…smell mop who?

• I love that we have a housekeeper for the first time in my life but hate that we clean before she visits.

• I love that Doc. B is a vegetarian, but hate that it means we don't cook a juicy steak on the Weber grill every now and again. Oh wait, I can do that when I go out to eat when Doc. B. is off on a meditation retreat.

Hope you're lovin' on what you're hatin' on!

We Now Return to our Regularly Scheduled Programming

First Haircut!

From my first haircut with the Wright Beauty Academy of Battle Creek, Michigan (pictured above) to the one I had last night with Pam from Novi, Michigan (she says she’s from Union Lake, Michigan but whatever), some things never change.

This is exactly how I looked last night when Pam plopped a bean bag ashtray on the work station in front of me, stuck a roller (not a joint) in my hand to keep me occupied, and safety-pinned a towel around my formerly chubby (now double-chinned) neck to keep hair clippings (and now Ms. Clairol) off of my t-shirt.

The traveling crew from Wright Beauty Academy had their work "cut" out for them back then and Pam sure has been earning her money with me over the past ten years. Back at age one, it took a Ritz cracker to entertain me. Now it takes a combination of cheap wine, groaning humor delivered with a strong Michigan accent and salon drama.

Seriously, Pam does a great job with what she has to work with and whether she knows it or not, she’s like a part of my family (Pam, if you are reading this, Doc. B. and I send out hugs to you and your hubby on the passing of your beloved dog who had the same name as my beloved mother...).

And speaking of family, I just returned from a trip to Michigan to celebrate my dad’s 70th b-day and attend a family reunion (paternal grandmother's side of the gang). The entire week and a half there was just what I needed to regroup and recharge. Zingerman’s Deli in Ann Arbor, The Boyfriend at the Franke Center for Performing Arts (my mom played Hortense, the French Maid, in her senior high school production), the Welcome to my Garden Tour, a tour of all of my former Michigan residences, an olive burger at the Stage Coach, a meal at Winston’s, time at the Lake Cottage, a ride on the new boat to the Willows, Lake Michigan, time with Doc. B., and much overdue time with my sisters, brother, mom, dad, extended family and family friends. A special thanks to our best bud and pet/house sitter who made it easy to leave the kitties at home without worries (you know who you are but I haven’t thought up a nickname for you yet – help me out!)

Hope you are all finding ways to regroup and recharge in this summer heat and that you have a hair salon just like the one on Steel Magnolias!