Long Island Bucket List

Exactly 13 days into 2014, I kicked my "be more tolerant to others" New Year's resolution straight to the curb. Someone cocooned in an office 1,000 miles away scratched through my line of copy "Suffolk County covers the eastern two-thirds of Long Island." Until it was gone, I hadn't known I cared about Suffolk County or Long Island or how much of Long Island is covered by Suffolk County. Now a visit to Long Island, specifically the eastern two-thirds, is on my bucket list.

On a good day, a penciled out line doesn't send me into an emotional tailspin. Freely, I scratch through the words of other writers, and I expect others will scratch through mine. I recognize that a good editor improves the words crafted by a good writer. Most often, a trimmed word or  a crossed line rightfully removes an impediment. But on that day, on the subject of Long Island, I couldn't see it.

Three days after my tirade, I feel better. I look forward to sightseeing Long Island. I will stand with one foot in Suffolk County and my other foot in whatever county accounts for its remainder. I will say, "Wow! Who knew how big Long Island could be? It takes more than one county to cover this much turf!" At that moment, I will be awed and amazed. I just know it.

Missing on Monday was a "thank you." The Long Island edit came from someone who can't say thank you. And it was made at the close of a really long day that capped off a whole series of long days.

I have recovered my inner zen. I also named my no-thank-you guy "Toad," unfair to toads everywhere (sorry) but it feels really good. And I have the joy of Long Island penciled in on my bucket list. Next time I write, I plan to squeeze a totally off-topic Jamaica into my story. As soon as Toad deletes that island paradise, it'll go right on the bucket list. And I will remember to thank myself.

Advice for Penpal's Goldilocks

Christmas Penpal sent the family a Christmas card. It arrived in an envelope marked "K***" on the front as this penpal truly doesn't know exactly to whom she writes. I plan to send a card back. I know, it's January, but I still plan to send a card back. I asked Birdie and Daisy for advice they might share with Penpal's adorable three-year-old Goldilocks. Birdie, having noticed the Penpal Family relocation to one of those big mountain, lots of trees outdoor states--suggested that Goldilocks ask for a pony for Christmas. Then Birdie amended that advice, "ask for ponies." Ironic, as Birdie doesn't care for ponies, having discovered that you can ask your horse to trot through the ocean surf, but that doesn't mean it will do so in a way that is pleasing to the rider. 

Daisy claimed to have no advice for Goldilocks. I suspect she wanted to tell her to grab everything that's good as quickly as possible. Should a sibling arrive one day, life will change as Goldilocks  knows it. She will gain a playmate--and that playmate will want every single toy. That playmate will also, even at 20 years old, need written proof that it is not her turn to put the ornament Marshmallow Angel on the top of the tree.

That usurper playmate (Birdie) also this year suggest a sisters-only post-Christmas weekend trip by train to Chicago. The trip makes up for a lot of unhappily shared stuff over the years. And with written proof of whose turn it really was to plant Marshmallow Angel on top--Goldilocks, like Daisy, will survive whatever sibling may or may not appear. But still, as Daisy would note, grab everything that's good as quickly as possible.  Leave the pony wish for someone else.