Life Lists and Moonshine

I generally hate lists and resolutions. If you "officially" declare that you're going to get your oil changed today, or get a B in Contracts, or lose ten pounds by February, you're only setting yourself up to feel like a failure. If it's a motivational tool and it actually works for you, fine. But when I do it, I just end up feeling like a failure. So I take a different approach to "life lists," or Things I Want to do Before I Die.

My list isn't very specific. It includes anything that will make a good story when I'm too old to do anything but tell stories. If I succeed, my great-grandchildren will think I just made up all my stories, when in fact they actually happened. I hope to hear "Ha-ha, you got them Grandma! They actually believed you!" Then I'll laugh at my "deception," knowing that these stories actually happened, even if my grandkids don't believe me.

Besides, I'm a horrible liar. I need true crazy stories to be interesting.

Anyway, one of those events happened over Christmas break when I drank moonshine for the first time. I didn't actually know that "Drink moonshine" was on my life list until we started talking about it that night, but after doing it, I'm definitely depositing a mental check on my list.

I was with Josh at his friends' place in the hills of NC. The moonshine was brown and had "blueberries" in it, although they looked more like "brownberries" to me. I took a drink. It burned like heck so I made a spectacularly girly "Eewwwwwww!" noise. One of Josh's friends informed me that eating a berry was the equivalent of taking a shot of whiskey, so I said "Ok!" and promptly swallowed one. Then I gave already-intoxicated Josh two berries. Hehe.

It was the most disgusting thing that has ever made its way to my stomach, but I drank the darn moonshine and lived to tell about it.