On Bucket Lists (Or, Wollen wir tanzen?)

I've never given thought to a bucket list, mostly because I can't imagine what would happen if I managed to accomplish all the items. Would that mean it was time to kick the bucket? Or time to make a new list? I'd spend a lifetime making lists, checking them off, and then chasing after new lists, which feeds the possibility of frightening addictions if you ask me (which I know you didn't, but you get my two cents' worth anyway).

That nonsense having been said, I was watching an episode of Samantha Brown's Passport to Europe, and everything changed for me in about two minutes, which was about how long she spent on the segment in Vienna, Austria that would inspire item #1 on my bucket list.

She danced at a Viennese Ball.

(http://www.austria.info.uk/)

The Vienna Ball season runs annually from the New Year through February. The above shot shows the opening of a ball where the debutantes open the dance with the first Waltz of the evening. After they've done their rounds, the public joins in for the rest of the evening. And apparently "the public" could be anybody. Yeah, even you or I could buy a ticket to a ball, don our finest threads, and dance like princesses in venues worthy of royalty but open to Joe Schmos like us. I watched Samantha Brown glide across the floor doing the Waltz - which, for the record, is a relatively simple dance to learn - and looking so fairy-tale elegant that I said out loud (and I was alone when I said this), "I want that to be me."

At this point, I should mention that I've been coveting Samantha Brown's job for years, but this is the first time I actually believed it possible for me to have that kind of moment...that is, without having her meet up with an accident for me to get there.

As soon as my husband came home, I told him about my new bucket list, the one with only one item on it. He was nonplussed.

Hubby: With all the worldly adventure out there to conquer, you want to dance the Waltz at a Vienna Ball?

Me: Yes. I mean, Ja.

Hubby: I want to go white-water rafting on the Colorado River, class 5 rapids.

Me: Wunderbar. Enjoy.

Hubby: You want to Waltz in Vienna. (a statement, but it's filled with incredulity)

Me: You don't like dancing. I get it. But think of the level of THAT challenge - learning the Waltz so you could take me to Vienna and treat me like a princess, just for one night of fairy-tale romance.

Hubby: (the ultimate romantic, truth be told) OK. As soon as I win the lottery - item #1 on MY bucket list.

I may not have a date on the calendar for my Viennese Ball, but just dreaming about its possibility fills me with hope...which I guess is the main purpose of a bucket list anyway.

What say you? What's on your bucket list?

On Rambling (Or, Samantha Brown had better watch her back)

I want Samantha Brown’s job. If you’re not sure who she is, she’s the charming and charismatic host of the Travel Channel’s Passport to Europe, or Latin America, or wherever you want to go. (She’s also the only person I follow on Twitter who has responded to my tweets. Thanks, Sam!) I’m home sick today, which means that between the frequent bathroom visits (I won’t get more graphic than that), I can relish back-to-back episodes of Samantha Brown’s Passport to Great Weekends segment, where she took me first to Brooklyn and then to Cape Cod.

(Here she is crossing the Brooklyn Bridge. Doesn't that look like a better way to spend a dreary Wednesday?) Now I want her to come to South Florida so I can take her around my stomping grounds and be on her show – since I can’t steal her job.

Don’t get me wrong. I actually love my teaching job, where I get to meet people as exotic as Samantha does. (I teach English as a Second Language at a local college.) The big difference is that Samantha gets to travel to these exotic places and then say good-bye to these people while I spend sixteen weeks with mine and then have to give them a final grade, which they often don’t like. Well, the philosophy is that professors don’t give grades; students earn them. But nine out of ten students don’t buy that crap, and so I’m left having to look them in the eye when they sometimes fail, wishing I could instead hop a plane outta there as quickly as Samantha Brown does.

So as the sixty-degree rain falls from the oppressive gray sky today, exacerbating my headache and stomach cramps, I’m wishing I were somewhere else, maybe snuggled before a fire in an Alpine ski lodge or nestled comfortably in a hammock on Bali (channeling the fantasies inspired by Elizabeth Gilbert in Eat, Pray, Love). If I had Samantha Brown’s job, I could do that and then spend the rainy days blogging about it.

(For the record, Microsoft Word does not yet recognize “blog” as a noun or a verb. How behind the times is that? It also doesn’t recognize “jonesing”, which is what I wanted to write earlier instead of “wishing”.)

Anyway, I’m rambling, which is what sick people do when they’re bored and jonesing to be somewhere else, to have someone else’s job, or just to feel well enough to stay away from the bathroom for more than thirty minutes. Incidentally, I just had to renovate my bathroom due to leaky wall tiles, and though it’s the last thing in the world I would have chosen to spend money on, I have to say it looks great. I also have to thank God I didn’t get this stomach bug one week earlier when dust coated the sink counter and a man named Jack lowered my A/C to 65 degrees and spent his days blaring country music while he worked. I like country music ‘n all, but I was home on Spring Break and so had to listen to Dierks Bentley sing about a Long Trip Alone, which is what I really wanted to take on my break instead of having to endure frigid temperatures inside my own home. I tell you, it just ain’t fair.

Then again, I could have needed the toilet every few minutes, which I guess puts things into perspective. And since perspective is a hard thing to find when you’re rambling on ‘n on ‘n on, I thank you for staying with me on this blog about absolutely nothing. I love you all!

P.S. (Beware: shameless plug coming) Did I mention that my novel, Looking for Anita, is a finalist for the ForeWord Reviews 2009 Book of the Year Awards?