Top Ten Reasons That I Have Not Been Blogging

10. I’ve been cleaning the crap out of this house trying to keep it presentable in case a potential buyer might want to see it. (Five, count ‘em, five people have been through this month! Yeah, baby!)

9. I was organizing and hosting a baby shower for Brett’s cousin, Emily.

8. I was riveted to the coverage of Anna Nicole Smith’s death and the circus that’s followed it.

7. I’ve been listening to Trent read to me. Yes, I said READ to ME! (Sam I am! That Sam I am! I do not like green eggs and ham!)

6. I’ve been dealing with the behavior of the snotty girls in Allison’s class, and their mothers. (More on that in another post. I promise. Gotta vent!)

5. I’ve been learning about The Secret.

4. I’ve been perfecting a way to get into the pantry to sneak a Girl Scout cookie without the cellophane giving me away. (Oh wait, no one is here now! Be right back…)

3. I’ve been training to run the Sarasota Marathon. Okay…it’s really just the 5K. But either way I’ve been running my ass off! Gotta burn off the damn cookies….

2. Brett Someone suggested that I might be spending too much time on the computer. *clears throat and rolls eyes*

And the number one reason I have not been blogging is…..

1. I just didn’t feel like it, dammit!

This Made My Day

I got carded today, people!

I went to the grocery store to get some sandwiches to take to the Polo match and I grabbed a six pack while I was there.

I’m in line and the cashier looks at me skeptically and says “Um, do you have I.D,?”

So I say “I most certainly do and you are gonna feel so dumb when you see how old I am.”

So she looks at the license and hands it back to me. Nothing. No reaction.

She looks at the bagboy and says “Guess how old she is.”

And I am thinking “Crap, don’t EVEN go there with me….”

And he says, “Thirty.”

And I say “I love you.”

And the bagboy? He is like all shocked and can’t believe it. And I am like so in love with him right now….I mean, I could really kiss him……

Cause I am SO thirty-nine-ish, people. I am not even kidding. And for the first time in ten years I am not looking forward to my birthday.

But if I’m that close to forty and someone thinks I’m thirty? Heck, bring it on!

I guess it must be what’s in my jeans genes?

Or that kid is really good at kissing ass.

Ch-ch-changes!

The Marriage-Go-Round

I wish people would give some thought about what it really means to stand by someone for 40 or 50 years. You know – after all the romance and ‘aren’t you cute’s’ have gone the way of the Dodo. ‘For better or worse’ isn’t just an outdated bromide like that ‘obey’ malarkey; and it means much more than not bailing during catastrophic injury or illness. It means being there to help and support. It means not blaming them for whatever accident or illness has crippled their body – and offering comfort when that body is wracked by pain or disease. Perhaps most importantly – it means not adding to that pain through repetitive emotional abuse. You do not look at your spouse and say “You’re no fun anymore” or flinch away; repulsed because they need a hug or some other physical reminder that they yet retain their humanity. When they already feel bad because they cannot attend that concert or go on that wished for vacation because of surgery or pain, you do not compound their misery with selfish displays of disgust and regret. Marriage isn’t a euphemism – it’s a reality; and that reality can sometimes chafe and burn. Love is supposed to circumvent all that. Don’t they say it conquers all?

Allow me to get personal for a moment. Before I married my husband, yet while we were living with one another, he was diagnosed with a brain tumor. The thing was exceptionally large (about the size of a soda can) and if not removed would definitely kill him within six months. Time became compressed. Important decisions had to be made lightening quick – where to have the surgery (as surgery was our only option), how to pay for it all (insurance left us liable for 20%) – and most importantly (from my point of view) whether or not to hang around for what could be a challenging aftermath. Yes – I really thought about it. His doctors were crystal clear in their assessment. Should he survive the surgery (which lasted 12 of the longest hours of my life) he might be left blind, deaf or paralyzed. That’s one hell of a lot to handle when you’re barely 30 years of age. So I thought – can I manage this? More importantly – do I want to? Have I the strength to make such a decision? Because once made there would be no going back. It was all or nothing – I stay, or I go; no third road option. Obviously I stayed – but that’s not my point. My point is I seriously considered every angle. It was more than ‘do I love this man’; it was ‘do I have the physical and emotional strength to cope with what could be a lifetime of struggle’? My answer was yes. Now – the surgery was a success (thank god) – and outside of some facial paralysis and his being deaf in one ear there were no lasting physical effects. Personality wise – now that’s something different altogether. No one said he’d become a different person. I was totally unprepared for that. But I made my decision. I married him, I loved him, I cared for him – 20 years now and counting. But not everybody really thinks of these things – of the changes that can happen at a moments notice.

Side-stepping the realities of life are not the sole province of the young, either. Grown-ups do it too. Even for those certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that they had duly considered all vicissitudes – life can suddenly rear up and bite them in the ass. And there they are – relying on that ‘for better or worse’ clause in the marriage certificate. Abruptly they discover that clause to be non-binding; that their spouse may have considered ‘for better or worse’ as only relating specifically to them. You’d think the opposite would be true – but it’s not. Whatever the reason – one spouse suddenly finds themselves in a place they don’t particularly want to be. But leaving someone because of accident or illness is really frowned upon societally speaking. The person doing the leaving is looked down on as morally bankrupt. So people stay. They stay somewhere they do not want to be. And it makes them angry – they are stuck, now, you see – no exit. And whether they intend to or not – that anger and frustration gets taken out on their spouse. Why get married in the first place, you ask? Well (and this rings especially true for men) – because it was fun. They had met someone with whom they always had a good time; and they anticipated that good time lasting forever – uncluttered and unsullied by either age or infirmity. Suddenly bam! Paralysis or cancer. Pain and doctors bills. That carefree, ‘you and me against the world’ relationship has changed – irrevocably. The same thing often happens with the birth or death of a child. Whatever the reason – one spouse withdraws – leaving the other to handle the situation virtually alone.

I’m not really assigning blame here. Some people are just wholly unsuited to heavy physical or emotional responsibility, something they cannot admit, even to themselves. Perhaps they looked upon marriage as being taken care of – spouse as substitute parent. It may never have occurred to them that they might be the ones having to administer that care – and it leaves them as angry as a child being denied a wished-for toy. Though they might not give breath to the words, “I resent you!” – the sentiment nevertheless runs underneath everything they say and do. Now imagine how all this feels when you are on the receiving end. It hurts. It hurts, it de-humanizes, it crush’s the very soul. Rejection by a spouse is bad enough in the best of circumstances; when you’re fighting trench war on a physical level it can be devastating. Many people would consider divorce at this point. In my opinion – divorce effectually leaves the unaffected spouse off the hook. Not that that spouse can really be the one to suggest it without seeming to desert their marriage at a critical point. Now here’s where it all gets a bit sticky. If they can push the other into suggesting it – say, nag or belittle them into fleeing for sanity’s sake…..well; best of both worlds. Social taboos regarding abandonment have not been violated – and most importantly – they become separated from that which they wished to avoid in the first place: a sick or deteriorating spouse. Poof! Responsibility all gone. Any imperative to stay till the bitter end has been resolved. It now becomes the sick spouse’s sole responsibility to provide for their own care and comfort. The additional pain and suffering this causes the affected partner is dismissed under a cloud of denial. “It wasn’t my fault” or “I’m not the one who asked for a divorce”. Whatever the excuse – the reality is: someone desperately trying to process massive physical, mental and emotional changes is now expected to handle all that, along with the logistical and practical end, without a net.

So think very, very carefully before saying ‘I do’. Look long and hard at the person standing beside you. Will they still be standing there were you in a wheelchair? Would you do the same for them? I think Paul McCartney said it best – which is sad, in a way, considering his own current failure on this account: “Will you still need me, will you still feed me when I’m 64?” Though I must say – he never left his first wife’s side while she was dying. He really did mean ‘for better or for worse’ when he took those vows, his lovely wife Linda holding a white kitten for her bouquet. Theirs was an enduring marriage between two people who truly loved and respected one another. His current wife bailed at the first sign of trouble. Seems she didn’t want to be married to an ‘old man’; just to his money. That says a great deal about her character – don’t you think? And character is the key, here. So if you’re only pulling a Brittany Spears – don’t bother. Trust me when I say your prospective spouse would be much better off without you in the long run.

*************** Today’s blog has been part of January’s Blog Exchange with my new friend from the site The Fat Lady Sings. Here’s what she has to share about herself:

“I began blogging a little over a year ago for a multiplicity of reasons. As a writer, blogging helps keep my wits sharp and the ‘muse’ active – too active in a way. Time that should be spent composing and editing my work often gives way to lively discourse on world events. It’s addicting! You see – I really love sharing in the free exchange of ideas and opinions blogging offers. As should be obvious from reading my blog – the one thing I have never lacked is a specific point of view! Politics, current events, philosophy – blogging is an intellectual Disneyland – filled with wonderful, fascinating people. I really treasure all the friendships I have formed online – and I look forward to what 2007 will bring with great enthusiasm!”

“I began blogging a little over a year ago for a multiplicity of reasons. As a writer, blogging helps keep my wits sharp and the ‘muse’ active – too active in a way. Time that should be spent composing and editing my work often gives way to lively discourse on world events. It’s addicting! You see – I really love sharing in the free exchange of ideas and opinions blogging offers. As should be obvious from reading my blog – the one thing I have never lacked is a specific point of view! Politics, current events, philosophy – blogging is an intellectual Disneyland – filled with wonderful, fascinating people. I really treasure all the friendships I have formed online – and I look forward to what 2007 will bring with great enthusiasm!”

You can find me at her site, where I am discussing my perspective on this month’s topic of CHANGES in honor of the new year. Be sure to check it out and take a peek at the rest of her blog while you are at it!

For even more thoughts on Changes, or to find out how to participate in the next Blog Exchange, click here.

Christmas Unwrapped

Since Christmas Day our house has looked as though a nuclear Christmas Bomb went off inside it.

Anyone who knows me very well will be tempted to shake her head and mutter bullshit ”yeah, right” under her breath, because they know how I typically keep house. Um, can you say OCD? But really, I swear. My life has been buried under a sea of gift wrap, garbage bags, game parts and cookie crumbs. Until yesterday. The garbage man finally came and took it all away and life can get Back to Our Regularly Scheduled Programming. Until Monday. When we take down the Christmas tree. Ack!

Now that the clutter has been temporarily removed from our home, and also my brain, I have had a little time to think about my favorite moments from the holiday. So here they are, in no particular order, some moments etched in my memory as special….

• the oven element going bad and having to be repaired to the tune of $240 dollars two days before Christmas and then rushing to make Christmas cookies, in an abbreviated form, so that we had some to leave for Santa since Allison practically had a heart attack when I suggested we use store bought ones
• watching Trent so carefully roll Peanut Butter Buckeyes into 42 different sizes and sprinkle sugar on the sugar cookies, and after telling him what a great job he did, watching him beam
• hearing my two year old nephew, Ryan, say my name clearly for the first time in the most incredibly adorable little voice ever
• listening to the kids beg Brett to save the life of the lobster, which they lovingly named Henry, that he planned to use to make Lobster Bisque for Christmas Eve and hearing them complain for days that dad “killed Henry” when he boiled him anyway (yummy….)
• snuggling in bed on a very rainy Christmas Day after waking at quarter to six (involuntarily) to open the loot
• watching Trent and Allison pool their money together to buy “secret” gifts for me and Brett
• taking Trent shopping so he could buy a gift for Allison just from him, which turned out to be, in his words, ”a girl shirt” with a glittery heart on it and hearing him say that he picked it “because we love her, Mom”
• playing Christmas Bingo on Christmas Eve with our family and working very hard to be sure that the littlest among us definitely won at least once so no one would cry and then Trent bursting into tears because “Daddy didn’t win” and then finding him in his room three days later in tears because he “just had a remembery that Dad didn’t win Bingo on Christmas Eve”

Okay, can someone please tell me how to bottle up a five year old somehow so I can keep him that way forever??

It’s My Birthday. Leave a Comment.

Also known as BUI. (blogging under intoxication)

Today is my birthfay birthgay birthday. I am officially Forever Thirty-Nine.

The other day roo over at roo the day wrote about how she told her sister about her blog. She said how uncomforatble it made her, but she did it. And how weird it felt.

I can relate.

Over the last six months that I have been nogging blogging I have shared that fact with a minimal number of people.

Why?

Fear.

It’s no secret to many of Brett’s side of the family that I have set up shop here, telling my tales of woe and joy, but my side of the family? Almost none. Back when I wrote the post about 9/11 I invited many of my firents friends and family to come and check me out. How many actually visited? I don’t know. But it was a big step for me. The things that I write here are some of the realest part of myself that I have ever offered to the outside world. They are not always nice and they are not always easy to say, but I’ve gone out there and it feels good. It works for me.

I found it most interesting that my sister and my best friend just don’t GET this whole blooging bloggin blogging thing. At all. And my mother? Forget it. This blog would be ridiculous. I’m sure there are others as well who don’t get it. They also calim claim that they do not know how to comment. So they don’t. Which means that a) they do not read me, or b) they do not care to commment. Which is okay, I guess.

SO. I am here today to ask. Today (or this week, or whenever)? Just this once? Could you try?

Here’s how.

Just go down to the bottom of this post and click where it says “comment”. I swear, it’s not hard. Enter your name. Enter your email address. You do not have to enter a URL, especially if you do not have a site of your won own. And then give your opinion. On anything.

That’s all.

I mean, it IS my birthday. There was a great dinner, lots of flowers, cake and bling bling.

Why shouldn’t there be some comments?

Red

Red’s hair was a hot representation of the August sun as she sat graveside with her three children. Their father—her ex—was laid out in front of them, a flag falling straight and precise over the coffin’s curves.

She had been at the wake, too, in that receiving line of awkward sadness. Furthest from the flowers and the silky gathers of casket fabric, she was the first to greet me. She opened her arms around huge breasts lifted by Victoria’s Secret, pulling me in. I bent into the hold. She’d always been so small. Looking down, I imagined that my ankles looked like a bloated caricature of her own tiny bones.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said, which was strange. Of all the losses for which I could have expressed my sympathy, this was by far the least appropriate. She had lost a baby. She had lost a marriage. She’d lost her parents and temporarily misplaced a sister. Losing was not new to her.

“I’m so glad you could be here. The kids were talking about you yesterday while we were looking at pictures. Kayleigh called you ‘our summer sister.’” She giggled in her usual way, only the laugh was older now—softer and more muted. She patted the arm beside her. “Kayleigh, look, it’s your summer sister!”

Her eldest daughter turned to us. The protective rays of Red’s sphere pushed us into each other as Kayleigh smiled and hugged me. Shrugged niceties of the brief and funereal kind were exchanged. It was a relief when the line moved on.

“I’m sorry,” I said to Red’s son. Ethan patted my back a few times, solidly. Then Karen looked over. As the one who had never lost touch with her father, she stood alongside his body. She wore a sleeveless dress of black and white. I’d seen it before.

Karen was the middle child. Her father’s girl. My best friend. I opened up my arms and we both stepped in. When we pulled away, Karen was all whispering incredulity. “Look at her,” she demanded. “Can you believe it? What is my mother doing here?” Karen’s eyes were huge, dripping irony like tears. “I mean, how is that even appropriate?”

I laughed too loud. I couldn’t help it. Even Karen’s sneezes had comic timing and delivery. I looked around to see if anyone noticed my gaffe. Nobody had. Red was welcoming one of the police officers who’d come to pay his respects to an old colleague.

When I turned back to Karen, she was looking at the coffin. Her gaze hung there, upside down.

The next day my own father helped bear his old friend Mark’s casket into the church and out again. I sat with my husband and my mother near the front. Afterward, we drove together to the cemetery. Red and her three children were seated in black camping chairs. There was no hole in the ground beneath the long box. The funeral director spoke into thick, unmoving air. After a single prayer, the flag was folded into itself many times over, until there was only a pocket of red, white and blue. The director placed it on the lap of Mark’s youngest child, the only living son. Not that he was a child anymore, really. Somewhere along the line, we had all grown up. Ethan accepted the gift. One seat removed, Red wept. Karen was on the far end, unblinking.

Today’s post was brought to you by the letters ECR and the numbers 24/7. ****

As part of today’s Blog Exchange, ECR and I have switched places. You can find me at her site, where I am discussing the other half of the holiday color scheme: GREEN! Be sure to go check it out and then take a peek at the rest of her blog while you’re at it!

For even more perspectives on Red and Green, or to find out how to participate in the next Blog Exchange, click here.

Where you can get the skinny

This may not be long, because I am so pissed off I can hardly type straight. Of course this is better than I was a few hours ago, which was in a total state of blubbering idiocy. So at least we are moving forward.

And I won’t even begin to describe the level of anger that Brett is at right now.

This has to do with my body size. And I am on the thin side, I will admit it. I have not always been this way, although I have never been really heavy either. There have been times when I have not liked the way that my clothes fit. I mean, the jeans have been a little too tight at times, so to speak. Not that that is a bad thing. But as most girls can tell you, it never feels particularly good to put on something that you were looking forward to wearing only to discover that it will end up in a heap on the floor with the other twenty things you have to try on till you find The Outfit that won’t show your “muffin tops”.

And I am not a big dieter. Really. Because, and listen closely here…….I LOVE FOOD. I love to eat. All. Kinds. Of food. And I like it to go down and stay there, people. And if it has to come out, I want it to be from the back end, please.

But today, someone had the audacity to ACCUSE me, yes, I said ACCUSE (hence the pissed offedness), me of being anorexic. This person actuallly went out there and said that I look sick. She asked very personal accusing questions about my health and why I look this way out loud, in front of my family, and other people, and within earshot of my children that were incredibly embarrassing and hurtful. And she continued to HAMMER me with these accusations repeatedly saying it was because she loves me. Yeah. Okay. I normally do that sort of thing to people I love. You know how that works, embarrassing your loved ones? That really shows them that you love them. Whatever.

Granted, this isn’t someone I have seen in a very, very long time. I am considerably thinner than the last time she saw me. And since I became a total wreck as she was doing this to me and I couldn’t explain the “horrible condition” that my body is in to her, and since no one else there could bring themselves to do it for me either since I think they might have been as shocked as I was or didn’t want to become involved, this is why:

1) I am no longer working. I eat a lot less not working. When I worked we had two snacks each day and a school lunch to eat, and many times birthday treats, and chocolate cravings from the stress, and salt cravings from the stress, and stress and stress and more stress. I eat when I am stressed at school. Get it? I am not as stressed at home. Yay for me! Hence I have lost weight.

2) I am no longer working. I have learned how to eat better. I have learned to eat when I am hungry and stop eating when I am full and I listen to my body better. I never did that before and I still slip if something is really yummy. But I just don’t need as much food since I am listening to my body tell me when I am full. Didn’t you see Oprah last week? It’s leptin, people. Sounds like leprechaun? I’m not on a diet. I LISTEN. Hence I have lost weight.

and 3) I am no longer working. Did I mention that yet? I have time to EXERCISE. Which I never had before. I am in better shape strength-wise than I have ever been in my WHOLE frickin’ life. I go to the gym like four times a week. Because it feels good. Not because I am trying to lose weight.

So. To recap: I am not forever dieting. I am not trying to lose weight. I am feeling good. Got it?

Now here’s where I tell you why I am so fucking pissed, besides the fact that she made an embarrsing scene. Not once, during the entire time this person was grilling me about my weight, did she, nor anyone else for that matter, bother to ask me how I felt about my weight. That should matter, right? I mean, it is my body, right? Had I been asked, I would have said that I do, in fact, like the shape I am in. Do I have things about my body that I wish I could change? Sure. I don’t know many people who don’t. But my weight is not one of them right now. I like being thinner. And quite frankly, what I think is what is most important. I was disrespected.

So why does someone feel the need to attack me and try to make me feel bad about the way I look and then try to label it as LOVE? Don’t have the answer to that one. Seems a little twisted to me. But I won’t be able to ask her because I won’t be seeing her again if I can help it. I didn’t deserve to be treated that way and I won’t allow myself to be again.

That’s just me taking care of me. And that’s what I have to do.

*sigh* So much for a short post…….

What I need…

I saw this over at Moogie’s today and had to steal it.

Go to Google. Type in your name and the word “needs”. Like this: “Kim needs”.

Here’s what I found out:

Kim needs to talk. Um, yeah. Why the heck do you think I HAVE this blog? I have things to get off my chest!

Kim needs to shut up. Okay. This may be true, but it’s a little contradictory to the first one, don’t you think? And you could ask politely. Talk. Shut up. Talk. Shut up. Make up your frickin’ mind!

Kim needs to take off the gloves. Actually my nail tech seems to think I need to wear them more often.

Kim needs some guinea pigs. I do? Where the hell am I going to put THOSE?

Kim needs a plumber. Damn! What the hell is broken around here now?? It had better not be the john.

Find out what you need and let me know what it is. Because I need to know. Unless your name is Kim though. Cuz already know what you need!

You’re probably going to tell me to quit my bitching

Over the last couple of months I have shamelessly bragged commented several times about how much I am enjoying being a stay at home mom while my kids are at school. I have been seriously taking advantage of the freedom I have acquired doing all of the things that I used to make fun of stay at home moms for being able to do. Must be NICE to be able to go get a pedicure and do your grocery shopping all. by. yourself. It is.

All of that came screeching to a halt this week when, in addition to the two days of tutoring I do during the week, I accepted six days in a row of substitute teaching. What the hell was I thinking? No gym? No errands all. by. myself? Damn! I have been spoiled. I actually got depressed the day before I was supposed to sub, knowing that I would not have a day to myself for about ten days!

I thought, when I decided to make myself available for subbing, that this would be so easy. I have been a teacher for sixteen years. I have always loved teaching. Outside of all the bullshit of dealing with the parents, report cards, conferences, administration, paperwork, etc. being with the kids was so much fun. I loved coming up with fun ways for them to learn something and seeing the lightbulb go on! And this is the same school that my kids attend, and also the school that I taught at for the last thirteen years. I mean, how hard can it be? I know subbing can be a challenge, but many, many of these kids know who I am and what kind of teacher I am. They know what I expect. They know my own kids.

Here’s what I have discovered: the truth is….none of those things matter very much. To kids. The truth is, very simply, you are NOT the regular teacher and so they absolutely MUST test you. It’s in their blood. They can’t help it. They simply cannot resist. And when you are not the regular teacher it is not all that much fun. There is not that much opportunity to come up with fun ways to learn.

One thing is for sure, I have a whole new respect for specialty teachers. A month ago I subbed for the art teacher for a week. For two days this week, I subbed for the librarian. She is AMAZING. She does all the librarian stuff AND teaches a full load of classes. Having always taught at grade level, I forgot how much energy it takes to switch from kindergarten to sixth grade in a matter of minutes. It’s been a good challenge for me, even if it is not that much fun. Even though I am not teaching a class full time, I can still push myself to grow as a teacher. I’d just rather not do it six days in a row.

I have loved getting hugs from my former students. I have loved seeing my own kids at school. I have loved seeing my teacher friends. All good things.

And these past two days, I subbed for the Spanish teacher. All of the spanish videos and music left me with a serious hankering for mexican food. I joked to Brett that I may have to stop at Taco Bell on my way home and was treated to a dinner of homemade fajitas and margaritas! Bonus!

Monday and Tuesday I am in fourth grade and we are taking a field trip.

After that I am free. It’ll just be me. All. by. Myself.

Ah, yes! I think remember what that is like…. ;>)

Things I’d Like To Do Someday

Life goes kind of quick and watching some people I know be confronted with the end being imminent has gotten me thinking. Here are some things I have thought I would like to have done before I’m through here. Some of them are not realistic, but one can always dream, right? I’m sure others will come to me once I finish this post!

1. Have my palm read. I know I might not like what they tell me, but I have always thought it would be so interesting to see what a palm reader might say about me. Actually it might freak me out a little!

2. Ride in a hot air balloon. When I was in middle school I did a project on hot air balloon travel and have been intrigued ever since. It seems like it would be so awesome to float along, but it would have to be at one of those cool hot air balloon convention things where there are like 20 of them in the sky all at once!

3. Have my hair cut by Jonathan Antin. Have you SEEN him in action on Blowout? He gives good hair. I LIVE for good hair days and I don’t have many of them.

4. Walk on the red carpet at the Academy Awards or the Emmy Awards. With the celebrities. And attending the after-parties would be cool, too. Rubbing elbows with Jennifer Aniston or Patrick Dempsey? Yummy.

5. Go to the Oprah show. Just once. And if it could be one of her shows about her Favorite Things, well that would be just peachy!

6. Build a house with Extreme Home Makeover. Or Habitat for Humanity. This just sounds cool to me. I mean, what a big way to make someone’s life a better place. Everyone should have a Home Sweet Home.

7. Learn to Country Line Dance. I had the chance when I went to Nashville last summer as we walked past the Wildhorse Saloon, and I didn’t do it. Cuz no one else wanted to. I hate that peer pressure thing. I should have ditched them and done it myself. Dumb! Of course being in a saloon in Nashville alone late at night, well……maybe not such a good idea. Actually I would like to learn any kind of dance after watching Dancing with the Stars!

8. Go white water rafting. The tamer rapids would suit me fine. It just seems like it would be a thrill. It doesn’t have to be death defying or anything.

9. Breast augmentation. I know this sounds like a wierd one and probably pretty shallow, but really, I just do not have them. Boobs, I mean. I know it shouldn’t be important, but it sucks being small. Really it does. It would probably be less expensive to invest in a boob job than pay for all the Wonder Bras from Victoria’s Secret that I’ve had to invest in over time. I wouldn’t want huge breasts. Just something respectable. I’d give my right arm to look like a Pussycat Doll for just one day. Well, maybe not my right arm. Maybe the left one.

10. Shop at the Pike Place Market in Seattle. Between the food, the flowers and those guys that throw the fish around, oh my gosh, it’s gotta be so neat. But then I would have to have a place out there to put the flowers and cook the food. Okay, I’ll take that, too.

It’s your turn. What is something that you would like to do someday? Come on, let’s hear it……please share!