Check out Don Wildman's list of big life desires. With some work, and luck, he might be able to accomplish them all!
I'm not particularly into ghosts or, for that matter, UFOs. If I saw one, it would probably terrify me. But I'm fascinated by the fact that all these ghost/UFO shows never really address the truly freaky side of things. That is to say, if there are ghosts/aliens, then there could be just about anything! Right?
Thrill-seeker, what can I say? I was watching the kite-boarders on Martha's Vineyard last summer and, man, I want that, too. If only I could just string together any number of days back in CA not working I'll get me some skills. But then, of course, I wouldn't have a job and that would be bad, right? Ugh, dilemma of life.
Because my Quaker ancestors did it in 1652 -- without a satellite phone. Talk about terrifying. To honor them, I will make the crossing. Got Milk Run?
In New York, have breakfast in a greasy spoon, lunch at a 3-star restaurant, dinner at a 5-star restaurant and drinks at the Plaza. Just a stupid idea for the perfect day.
Sitting at a cafe in Paris and speaking fluently with a waiter. Sweet revenge for all the awkward tourist moments of my past. Everyone needs a foreign tongue, especially, if you ask me, Americans. Automatically de-isolates you, and that is good.
I have several letters my Uncle Alan wrote to his brother, my dad, all sent (and stamped) from the Canal Zone. He served down there in WWII -- but it's a murky chapter of family history because the man died at 26. Leukemia. I've been told I look like him. So, sud I go. Noble reason to drink tequila -- first stop, Mexico. Then, the Isthmus (world's greatest word).
Real men weld. Wear the mask, meld the metal. Build my own bridge -- or, at least, a bookshelf.
I'm on television because of Jacques Cousteau. I have seen the ocean depths because of that man. It would be a spectacular honor to meet his offspring, especially underwater. Maybe we can take a submersible to the sea-bottom and complete my fantasy.
How cool to sit down at one of those machines and actually operate it -- or pick up a pair of needles and make a damn sweater for myself? Un-manly? Not in the least -- it's liberating and off-the-grid! My mom forced my 4 sisters to learn to make their own clothes while I sat on the couch watching cartoons. I regret that choice.
One day I'll learn to love a sit-up.