living the dream

There are two kinds of people in this world:  dreamers and doers.  I am a dreamer.  My mile-long bucket list includes, but is not limited to, me in a tall white chef's hat, me wearing a press badge, and a bio of me in the back of a novel.  Someday, I want to get into the shape of my life.  Someday, I want dread locks.  Someday, I want a beautiful, colorful tattoo on my back. 

I want my children to rise up and called me blessed.

I want to be a grandmother like my mom is turning out to be. 

I want to win a cooking contest.

I want to taste marinara sauce in Italy.  

Like I said, a mile long.

My husband, on the other hand, is a doer.  When I asked him the other day what was on his bucket list, he said, "Nothing.  I'm living my bucket list."  Then today, he was drinking tea in a local tea house, waiting for a friend, facing a back alley that was bustling with merchants on motorbikes pedaling goldfish jars, and he took this picture of himself.  He sent it to me in an email with this message: "Because I'm living my bucket list, baby."

And there you have it.


If, however, doers like Daniel did have a bucket list - a suppressed bucket list, of sorts, that even they themselves were unaware of - perhaps dining at a place like this might be on it.

Or perhaps eating a happy piece of butt would be on it.

And I'll throw this picture in the mix because Daniel sites this moment, in the Tiger Leaping Gorge, captured on camera by a friend, as being the most serene moment of the last 7 years of his life.

 Living the dream.