My NON-Bucket List Ideas

#1. #2. and #3 TOP NON Bucket List Ideas and Examples:

#1 Flying in a Stunt Plane
#2 Skydiving
#3 Getting a Pilot's License

I thought I'd get the most depressing non bucket list idea and example out of the way right away. And I'll dedicate this one to the memory of my beloved Aunt Sophie, my dad's sister.

After my Aunt Sophie died while accepting a friend's offer to take a ride with him at an airshow back in about 1965 or so in my hometown, I promised my dad never to 1) Ride around in small planes and 2) Skydive.

(I made the decision to forego getting a pilot's license on my own.)

I think the worst parts of that whole tragedy were that her kids (my cousins) were on the ground watching the whole horrible thing and that it was the first time I ever saw my dad weep. I was about 6 years old, and honestly could not comprehend what happened.

I do comprehend what I promised.

I almost broke my promise when my 2nd husband (who had been an 82nd Airborne soldier) almost convinced me to go skydiving. At the end of the day, I just couldn't do it.

I have - by nature of my past work experiences in Antarctica and other travel - been in small-ish airplanes and also helicopters - but no stunt planes.

So, now that that's out of the way, let's move on to more lighthearted stuff. Thanks for listening.

Look. I enjoy a lovely tramp through the mountains like anyone else. I LIVE in the mountains. I LOOK at mountains from my home in northern New Hampshire.

But, the truth is, after spending nearly a week hiking about 70 miles by myself on Vermont's Long Trail (VT/MA border to Canada), I practically crippled myself with tendonitis after 5 days, I missed hot showers, and I missed eating something other than boiled noodles.

And I STUNK!

And that was only a week!

I distinctly remember taking 2 hours to leave the trail after serious tendonitis set in - I got to the highway, and put out my thumb to try getting a ride to the nearest town (which was somewhere outside Rutland, VT).

Ready for this? Even with my hiking boots strapped to my backpack, NO ONE would pick me up.

It was clear that I was a backpacker who was hobbling, barefoot, down the highway (couldn't keep the boots on because of the pain).

I finally made it to a little store, where I bought epsom salts and a candy bar. A nice lady offered to drive me over to "Eppie's place... she's got a little hotel, and I'm sure she's got a room for you..."

(And this is how I knew I REALLY STUNK)...
So, as I was hobbling over to her car (where she had a large German Shepherd waiting for her), she went to adjust the seats. She spread newspapers on the back seat (which I figured were for the dog). She then motioned for the dog to hop into the front with her, and then motioned for me to sit ... on the newspapers.

She unrolled the windows.

THAT'S a hint people...

She brought me to this little hotel where I soaked my feet in the wastebasket (there was no tub), and stared at a TV that was bolted to the wall up near the ceiling while I waited for a ride out of town.

It was the first and only time I have ever watched a soap opera (there was nothing else on).

Nowadays, I pick up thru-hikers from the Appalachian Trail whenever I see them in town, and have enough of a vicarious hiking experience talking with them.

They stink to high heaven, and ... yes, I roll down my windows.

First... Look at the video above - footage of a fishing boat in Iceland somewhere.

Now, seriously. I look at that and the first thing that comes to my mind is, "Are you guys out of your minds? What's wrong with a nice canoe trolling on a quiet pond? With a nice glass of wine on the dock overlooking the nice quiet pond after?"

Or, along with that goes "Visit the Arctic Circle" or "Go on a cruise to Antarctica." Really. You've got to be kidding. Not this kid. Now now, not 20 years ago, not 20 years from now. Not in this life.

Next!

Look, I know this may be hard to believe, but Danica Patrick I am NOT.

I once had a little red Nissan Sentra that I drove 90 mph in a fit of ecstacy on a gorgeous scenic road.

Well, I should say that I got the car UP to 90 mph, and held it there for ... hmmm. Maybe a half a second. Maybe a full second.

That was enough. Anyway, it's hard to see the scenery if you're going so fast.

It's also a LOT easier to get a very big speeding ticket that way.

I have made up for that crazy 2 seconds in my life by driving like I'm Danica Patrick's great-grandmother (just ask my husband!)

John has had many, many years of experience as an ice climber. Some of the climbing he has done is pretty hard-core.

Although I couldn't possibly relay his fascinating stories here in a way that would do them justice, his tales nonethless often make me wonder (silently), "Is he quite well?"

I will say that John and his brother James once took me to an ice cliff where I could learn the basics (John had me on a tight rope). I struggled and dug my crampons into the ice as best I could...

I swung those ice axes into the ice so hard that you would have thought I was fighting off some creep from a horror flick.

I climbed until I exhausted myself... my hands froze to the point that I had no feeling left at all... Finally - John lowered me down.

I had "climbed" ... oh, 10 minutes or so. And about 15 feet. (I think I climbed 15 feet... I'll have to check with John on that. I'll get back to you.) :)

PS: This photo is NOT of John. I'm writing this while being away from home. If I can find some photos of John climbing, I'll add one later.

I actually CAN sing. And, I've actually been paid to sing (I used to sing at the annual Fryeburg Fair in Maine).

But, one thing I learned was that for the 2 months leading up to the gig, I almost felt ill every time I thought of performing in front of strangers.

Major stage fright.

The craziest thing about it was that after I sang 1 or 2 songs, I was fine.

It didn't seem to matter that the stage I was assigned was the kids' stage at Old MacDonald's Farm outside the petting zoo - and that my gigs were typically scheduled for times when there would hardly be anyone listening anyway.

So in 2001, when I had to cancel my long-standing slot at the Fryeburg Fair in order to care for John who was recovering from a broken hip and arm (long story) - by cancelling my spot, I therefore gave it up forever.

But, c'mon over and I'll sing for you all day. Just not in front of 50 strangers who are really just waiting for the petting zoo to open.

No offense to all my friends who have tattoos. And no offense to my friends who are tattoo artists.

There is ONE primary reason I do not want a tattoo.

They don't wash off.

Oh, I've thought about it. Some of my favorite people have tattoos. I honestly just don't really like them that much.

I do like and admire some of the artwork. One guy we know up north is a fabulous artist, and he now designs some beautiful tattoo art. And another friend here in Myrtle Beach is a very talented tattoo artist - he even offered to give me one.

Even if I DID get a tattoo - which I'm not - but even if I did, I have this feeling that I'd get tired of it and wish it were a different design. It would just complicate my life needlessly.

Then there's this vision I have of myself at age 100 with this aging butterfly or some symbol whose meaning I'll have probably long forgotten, saying to someone, "Oh that old thing? Who knows what I was thinking... I was only 51 years old and just a kid at the time..."

So, at the end of the day, I'm just plain ol' Kathy.

If I really get the urge, I'll get a temporary mehndi design (henna).

PS: If you happen to be in Myrtle Beach and you have an irresistable urge to get a tattoo... Give "Dr. Ink" a call and ask for Arik to do your tattoo. They even come pick you up in a limo.

Ok... Imagine, if you will, meeting an alien from another planet who - over a nice glass of wine - says something like, "So, what do you people do for fun here on earth?"

And imagine answering, "Well, some of us like to go to the center of really high bridges, attach one end of a long elastic band to our feet, and attach the other end of the elastic band to the bridge - and then throw ourselves off the bridge headfirst. Then, we pray as our bodies are hurling toward the ground that the elastic band doesn't break before we hit the rocks and water. Then, we bounce around upside down for a while until we're brought back up to the bridge."

Then, as the alien takes another sip of wine, nodding - trying to understand... you add,

"Oh yeah, and we PAY to do this."

I'm just sayin'...