For the benefit of anyone who’s been living under a rock for the last 25 years or so, a “Bucket List” is a compilation of things to accomplish before death, or “kicking the bucket.” As I rush headlong toward my fifth decade, my Bucket List is shorter than it once was. Of course, there are things I’d still like to see and try and experience for the first time.

With age comes a modicum of self-awareness, molded by experience. I’m old enough to have tried many things, and to know the ones that need never be repeated. Been there, done that, the tee shirt was donated to Goodwill, don’t ever need to do it again. I call that list the “Chuck It.”

Then, there’s the list based on prudence and good sense – things I never wanted to try, never will, and never understood how others do. I’ll give you three guesses what I call that one. Hint: It rhymes with Bucket and Chuck It, and I curse like a stevedore.

The Bucket List

In the RV, I plan to drive across Canada, return to New England, and explore the Mississippi River Road, the Natchez Trace, and the Lincoln Highway. There’s Balloon Fiesta in Albuquerque, Jazz Festivals in Monterey and Newport, and a B-movie Western festival in Lone Pine, California. The “Somewhere in Time” weekend at The Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island in Michigan has been on the list for quite some time. As I see and learn more in my travels, it will only get longer.

Apart from RV life, there are parts of Europe and Africa and Asia left to explore.

That book isn’t going to write itself.

I still haven’t taken a hot air balloon ride. (See Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta above.)

You Heard It Here First: I’m hatching a plan to volunteer around the country, one month each in all the lower 48 – a four-year project (more on that later!). (See book writing above.)

The Chuck It List

Going Out At Midnight (And Other “When We Were Young” Activities)

In college, my roommates and I never went to dance clubs before midnight. Recently I went to see a band in New Orleans, and I was still home by 11:30. As I have gotten older I’ve begun to believe that old mothers’ adage: “Nothing good happens after midnight.“ If I’m leaving to go out at midnight, somebody’s sick or dead.

Another thing I did in my younger days was camp out on sidewalks for stuff. Depeche Mode concert tickets, the Rose Parade, the first Batman movie – that sort of thing. I’ll tell you right now, if you see me at nighttime in the city, in a tent or sitting on the sidewalk in a folding chair with a blanket, I’m homeless. Give me a dollar.

In the same vein, I am done with waiting in line for anything non-essential. Sure, it might be necessary at the DMV or the post office, but I won’t queue up for entry into restaurants, night clubs, shopping, or any other nonsense, I don’t care how good the DJ, the bargains, the Eggs Benedict, or the pizza dough.

Carnival And Fair Rides

Following neck surgery in 2012, my doctor told me to avoid all roller coasters, bumper cars, and other amusement rides because of neck instability. His advice was unnecessary; you won’t catch me dead on another ride for as long as I live. Every year you hear about some horrible death on a traveling carnival ride somewhere. Is anyone really inspecting them mechanically? And, have you taken a close look at the carnies that run the things?

When I was a teenager in Enid, Oklahoma, I drank my first beer, a Pabst Blue Ribbon, with my friend. We went to the fair, where I got some cotton candy. A little silly from the PBR, and being teenage girls in general, we disobeyed the carnie on the Spider, pulling the lap bar down ourselves when he told us to wait for him to do it. He flashed a snaggle-toothed grin and put a wicked spin on our car as the ride began. The ride itself was revolving, and so was our car, in the opposite direction, both so fast that everything was a blur. The PBR and the cotton candy were not mixing well. The ride concluded, and as each car made its way down to unload occupants, we sat high above the queuing crowd, upon whom I purged the contents of my stomach, foamy and hot pink in hue.

Disney

I did Disney World as a kid. I did Disneyland as a teenager many times when I lived in Southern California. As a senior in high school I went to Grad Night at Disneyland, where my friend and I were so high – I wish I could find that photo of the two of us with Alvin the Chipmunk, glassy-eyed and sweaty-faced. Then, there was the time in the 1990’s when my boyfriend and I decided Christmas Day would be a great day to go to Disneyland, because everyone would stay home with family, right?

Take it from me. If you must go to Disneyland, don’t do it on Christmas day. Ever.

The crowds, the screaming children, grossly inflated prices on everything – why would anyone go to Disneyland if they don’t have children in their lives?

Last year as I neared Orlando in the rig, I briefly considered going to Epcot Center. Eleven countries are represented at Epcot, but I greatly dislike downscaled replicas of actual places. I am dismayed when I see people in Las Vegas photographing the Eiffel Tower at the Paris Casino or the canals at The Venetian who never intend to see the real thing.

So then, why go to Epcot? Because they sell alcohol at those 11 countries! I fully intended to “Drink Around The World,” then write about it, believing my idea was novel. Then, I found the blogs of several people who’ve already done it. Drat!

Black Friday

Love the idea of being trampled for a television? Don’t care about whether other people get to be with their families during the holidays? Do the words “Door Buster” rev your engine? Then have fun without me. I want no part of that disgusting shrine to American excess. I don’t BOGO, because YOLO.

Forts

Man, have I seen a lot of fortifications in my travels. Wood, brick, never completed, partially destroyed, accessible only by water, colonial, revolutionary, Civil War. As I have written before, I think I’m forted out.

Blue Cocktails

I have never had a good experience with blue alcoholic drinks. Tarantula Tequila is light blue. It tastes like tequila mixed with Pledge, and on one particular campout with the Sisters on the Fly in Oregon, it was my downfall. As in fall down. As in, “Sister Down!” I got put to bed that night. Or so I was told.

Blue Curacao is the culprit for most blue mixed drinks, like the Blue Lagoon and the Blue Hawaiian. Those types of cocktails tend to be sticky and sickly sweet, with too much fruit juice and rum. Hangover time!

Corn Mazes

Rats live in cornfields. If you get lost you can walk through the stalk “walls,” so what’s the point? The paths are usually muddy from all the foot traffic, even when they throw straw down. I skip the maze and go straight to the hayride. Oh, who am I kidding? I also skip the hayride. I sneeze the whole time.

Revolving Restaurants

They can say they’re upscale. They can tout an expensive menu and fine wine. But every restaurant I’ve ever eaten in that revolves is just a big old tourist trap.

Riding Live Animals

Camels in Egypt. Elephants in Thailand. Horses on trails.

I have a motorcycle endorsement on my driver’s license, and from now on I’ll only straddle something with an ignition. Atop beasts of burden, I feel like I’m about to fall off, movement is bone-jarring and boob-bouncing, my low back kills me, and I always get the rogue animal who wants to do whatever the hell it pleases.

Sunrises

I much prefer sunsets to sunrises; they come with cocktails and hors d’oeuvres. The only thing sunrises come with is an alarm clock, unless you stayed up all night, in which case, see the Midnight Rule above.

Garage Sales

There’s nothing quite as demoralizing as hauling all your personal belongings out onto the lawn, sticking barely sticky price tags to them, and haggling with complete strangers over their value. Then there are the “Early Birds,” vultures who arrive earlier than the posted time, who literally take items from your hands before you can set them down. Often they are looking for specific items. “Do you have any Nazi memorabilia?” “Do you have any taxidermy?” “Do you have any pre-1920 two stroke engines?“ At the end of the day, you’ve made $100! You would get more on a tax write-off by donating it all to charity.

Walking 60 Miles In Three Days

In the early 2000’s I walked in the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Three-Day Walk with a team from my law firm. It is telling that I no longer speak to any of those women. It rained, a lot. We slept in tents. We got blisters the size of quarters. Lately I hear that the Komen Foundation doesn’t do a good job of getting the money to where it’s needed. When people ask me about my experience on the walk, I tell them I marked it off my life list. I wasn’t kidding.

Sewing

The one and only time I sewed anything was a dress in Home Economics class when I was 14 years old. When I sewed the skirt to the bodice, the pockets ended up on the front and the back. It was the ugliest damned dress I’d ever seen. I was forced to wear it on one occasion for class. And just like that, my sewing career ended.

Botox

My vanity got the better of me for a little while in my 30’s, when I tried Botox. I had two deep wrinkles between the eyebrows, caused by furrowing my brow while concentrating.

Botox sounded like a wonder drug. The more you used it, the less you needed! At the first appointment, the injections were really painful. My forehead swelled up like a Klingon. The next morning the swelling had subsided, but I awoke to a shock: the right eyebrow was noticeably higher than the left.

When narcissism is the impetus to try something new, it is more than a little disconcerting when it screws up your appearance! I returned to the doctor, who added more injections to the left to raise the brow. Thankfully that worked, and I did return for a few more rounds, but after a while I began to care less about the wrinkles and more about money I was spending.

(By the way, the best treatment for those brow wrinkles has been to quit working.)

Roller Skating

I’ve never had the best balance. At age 9 I requested a skateboard for my birthday, and I just couldn’t ride it. I thought it was defective. My father returned it.

At age 11, I went to a church function at the local skating rink. I was doing alright on my own, managing to stand, grabbing onto the rail when I felt unstable. Then, the announcer called all girls to one side of the rink, and all boys to the other. I didn’t know what was happening; I’d never been to a skating rink before. It was the boys’ choice skate, and boys crossed the floor to choose their girls. A newbie with no apparent skill, I was chosen last.

Everyone was skating so fast. My partner annoyingly pulled me along by the hand. I lost what little balance I had, taking him down with me, igniting a chain reaction, 10-person pile up. I sat up to view the carnage. The skate of a boy attempting to jump the human log jam hit me square in the eye, causing a big shiner.

That was the last time I donned a pair of roller skates.

The Fuck It List

Any Drinking Involving Funnels Or Gravity

You might be surprised that this item is not on the Chuck It List, but as a youth I never tried a keg stand or speed-guzzled a drink. I certainly don’t see any reason to start now.

Bungee Jumping, From A Crane, In An Asphault Parking Lot

On second thought, I don’t know why I haven’t tried this. What could possibly go wrong?

Skydiving

I don’t need to feel so alive right before I die.

Eating Blowfish

They are poisonous if you don’t clean them right. You’re not doing the cleaning. I don’t have that much faith in my fellow man.

Polar Bear Plunges

Are you trying to give yourself a heart attack?

Plastic Surgery

Avoid the scalpel if you can, especially for elective procedures born of conceit and foolish pride.

Thanks for reading! I would love to hear your three lists!