Bucket list...

I started thinking about a bucket list of sorts ... things I wanted to do before I could no longer do them ... or before my mind gives out.  I am somewhat abashed to admit that several culinary experiences came to mind more quickly than other types of experiences.  I mean, it bothers me that I will most likely never meet my grand niece.  And, if the past four years are any indication, my siblings will most likely never manage to visit.  I always wanted to see three American landmarks (the Redwood Forest, the Grand Canyon, and Niagra Falls), but travel is really out for me.  But there are some things that are possible.  For example, taking a pottery class or looking at the stars through a telescope like I used to do so in college.  And, of course, today's item that was crossed off.

I cannot say for sure, but I am fairly certain that it has been at least 20 years since I have had a Sonic burger.  Growing up in Texas, this is quite nearly a crime.  Sonic commercials air here, but there is no Sonic in town.  Watching them is brutal.  I got to thinking ... I want to have Sonic at least one more time.

Having determined, some time ago, that the nearest Sonic was 42 miles away, in another state, I finally worked up the nerve to ask my neighbor if she wanted to take a road trip with me.  You see, she and her son, who has autism, spend their weekends taking short trips here and there.  I thought 42 miles would be a drop in a bucket to her.  Still, who takes a road trip to another state for Sonic?  Much to my pleasure, my neighbor agreed and we planned to set off into the great beyond today (actually yesterday) at 1:00 with her son.

You know how sometimes you remember things as being wonderful and then when you experience them again they are not?  Well, Sonic most definitely lived up to the memories I do not have!  It lived up to the lingering hype that remains in my mind.  Man, I had a Sonic burger today!!

We drove through interesting itty bitty towns to get there.  You know, the kind of towns with lawns like this:

My neighbor and I both cried out, "Look at that yard!" at the same time.  Her son laughed because his mother has a single pink flamingo that she moves around the back yard ... not 15 of them.

Of course, the cool part about driving through the farm land that is between those itty bitty towns is that you get to see something new and incredibly interesting...

...that is, if you are a fan of barns.  I didn't know they came in round shapes.  The other part of the drive I enjoyed was the plethora of blue spruce trees I got to admire.  A deep and abiding passion for blue spruce trees is something I shared with my father.

Should I admit that I actually stumbled getting out of the car, not because I was stiff and in pain, but because I couldn't wait to have Sonic???

Of course, I was not the only one excited to be there.  [I found it adorable that the Sonic doll was buckled in the back seat by his 20-year-old companion.]

Too bad that I have no photo for the rather befuddled crew that stood staring about in confusion at the door to Sonic.  You see, there was no inside for folk not employees.  Nor was there a walk-up order window.  There were car parks with order boards and there was a courtyard of outside tables with a giant ... thing ... to one side.  The three of us kept trying to figure out how to place an order when this very nice (and obviously amused) family told us that the thing was an order board and that we just needed to push the big red button.

[Note to self: Big red buttons most likely are there to be pushed.]

Well, the menu has obviously changed since I was last at Sonic.  I know that I always picked the one that had mustard (I think it was a No. 3).  But, basically, I had a cheeseburger with bacon, no onions or tomatoes, but with extra mustard (a No. 1).  BLISS.  It was just as wonderful as I hoped it would be.  However, that is jumping ahead.

We stood in front of the board for about 15 minutes, trying to figure out what everyone wanted.  Then, after pushing the button, we struggled to actually place our order.  The first time the staff's voice came blaring through, we all jumped back.  Literally, it was like being assaulted by sound.  We took a step back and tried again.  More jumping.  All of use were standing a good 10 feet from the board by the time our order was complete.  And we were exhausted.  But, as I said, ultimately we were not disappointed.  Though, my neighbor and her son got hotdogs.  Who goes to Sonic for hotdogs??

The second best moment of the day—the first being my first bite of hamburger—was when my neighbor noticed the hours sign and suggested that we could go for midnight burgers one day after work.  SIGH.  This might not be my last Sonic experience!

Two things that I like about Sonic (besides great tasting burgers and FANTASTIC mustard):  1) shredded lettuce on the burger (like Fuddruckers ... who has the best mustard of all time) and 2) the funky round ice that does not melt as you drink your drink.  Yep, I had a Dr Pepper!

I am, at the moment, still crossing my fingers about the whole digestive obstacle, but I am feeling well ... no nausea or swelling or other issues.

My neighbor would say the second best thing about the day for her was that right at the other end of the parking lot was a Wal-Mart!  Yep, we Wal-Marted in Ohio!!  She fell at work a few days ago and her shoulder was really hurting.  The ice packs she had been using were not helping, so my neighbor asked her "sickie" neighbor what to take.  I suggested alternating Tylenol with Ibuprofen, starting with the former.  Of course, we bought the Equate brand.  By the time we were half way home, my neighbor was feeling ever so much better.

I broke my stiff resolve to not muddy the waters between grocery budget cycles because the store carried the cut of pork I use for the Spicy Dr Pepper Pulled Pork tacos and the one here has not carried it for a few months.  Once one item was in the cart, I looked for a few more things targeted for next month, for this was one of the most magical Wal-Mart's I've ever seen. It was huge and clean and had an incredibly wide selection of goods.

When we got home, my neighbor and her son carried my purchases to the basement, so that I would not start using them until the next budget cycle begins on the 27th.  They both admired the stairs and my paint job.  And, much to my delight, the both admired—again—my back porch.

[Doesn't it make my old grill look even better???]

It is so very weird for me to walk across it each day, to sit on the steps waiting on Amos and catch sight of it out of the corner of my eye.  Yes, I am silly and am still rather enamored with how beautiful the old wood turned out once properly tended. But it is also the last home improvement project of my life.  I get a bit of a lump in my throat at the thought.  At my latest new reality.

I know that I actually painted the basement stairs and the stairwell after all that labor on the back porch, but I look at that task as repair, especially because the need to remove the carpet treads was from my flooding the kitchen and basement.  The porch, that was an actual improvement project, which are almost always highly labor intensive when you do not have the money to pay others.  It was, by far, the most economical home improvement project of my entire adult life.  And, being that I sat down most of the time (and actually lay down some of the time), it was the easiest of the hard jobs that I have completed.

The lattice?  Firewood Man is going to tend to that.  The railing on the airing porch?  Tim's taking care of that, too.  And other than painting that hideous door to the utility closet once Tim's got it properly hung, I'm not doing anything more labor intensive than hanging the new smoke detector's when I finish buying them.  Maybe ... just maybe ... I might put a new brass plate on the door frame of the screen door to the basement entrance.  Maybe.  I noticed, going in and out, that the latch is not quite catching.

I'm done.
Anything else needs to be the task of the next homeowner.
Truly, I am most fervently hoping that I am done.

Even the thought of putting out the mulch I was gifted this week is wearying me.  And all I did was drive to Lowe's have it loaded and then twit Tim the whole time he was unloading it and stacking all the bags next to the garage wall for me.  I actually think that I am now capable of not half-killing myself with work anymore.  Even though it lasted for such a short time, painting the small ceiling of the basement stairwell was excruciating.  I wept through most of it, trying to push through the pain in my hands, arms, and shoulders, as well as trying to keep from fainting since I was standing and had my arms above my head.  It is a very good thing that the stairwell ceiling only covers part of the staircase.

I am ever so much weaker.  "Recovery" time takes longer and is more brutal.  My hands do not hold onto things well (I duct-taped the brushes to my hands to keep from dropping them the way I did the brush I used to seal the back porch).  Even the really fantastic mini-road trip that I took with my neighbor today exhausted me.  But the main point is that I am tired. I am tired of being tired. I am tired of being terrified. I am tired of being in pain.  I am tired of being confused.  I am tired of breaking things that matter to me. I am tired of needing to find new ways to compensate for living on my own.  I am tired of more than I can even write.  All those things,  I cannot change.  But I can stop adding to the physical pain and exhaustion.

The ex-evangelical in me who was inculcated with the need to be a good steward of all that I am given has taken stock of the before and after state of my home and believes that I have done the best I could, for me and for those to follow me in this home.  Plus, the truth is, in the world of personal finance, the bottom line is the ability to understand the difference between needs and wants.  The switch over to the erythromycin pills will mean that I will be unable to cover my basic needs on the disability payments. Wants are pretty much off the table for me now.  And, to be honest, my wants have completely changed in the recent past, as I have been confronted over and over and over again with the failings of my mind, body, and soul.

But the sight of that back porch discombobulates me some.  For decades, I've been the one to not only do her home improvement because she is single, but also to do the home improvement for others.  I've painted oodles of walls, laid many floors of myriad types, helped hang, tape and float drywall, rewire lamps, sockets, switches, and outlets, landscape, reduce stuff, organize closets, offices, bedrooms, and entire floors, choose appliances and furniture (fetching and lugging it about), refinish/restore furniture, and a whole bunch of others tasks almost too tedious to type.  Being a good little evangelical, I was a doer of the Word.  Not really knowing how to be a friend, I was a doer for others.  Sometimes, I look at the back porch and I think, Now what's left of me?

It was truly a wonderful day to be able to taste Sonic once more.
To have the pleasure of a bacon cheeseburger slathered with mustard.
To sit at a GREEN table, in a cool breeze, tastiness abounding, with not a drop of mustard falling on my person.

My neighbor had purchased hair color for her shopping needs and wants.  So, once home, she tackled bringing a bit of freshness to her locks and then came over for me to lop off an inch or so.  After I finished cutting her hair, we sat and watched NASCAR for a while.  Once she left, I cuddled in the GREEN chair with a fluffy white puppy dog who was determined to make up lost time with his beloved puppy momma.

My bucket list is not going to be anything like the grand ones I've heard about.  But deciding I wanted to do something and then having the experience once more is grand to me.