I'm dying... we all are, some day

Here's the post I told Kari at I Struggle and Emerge I would do sometime over two weeks ago. And I have yet to play tag with Tammy at The Color of Home and pass on my shiny new award on here from Kathryn , one of my favorite reads. Only so many minutes in a curtain-climber packed day!

7 years, 7 months, 7 weeks, 7 days, 7 hours, 7 minutes to live!

7 years:

I would start traveling! Pompeii, Caribbean, Turkey, and every National Park in the U.S. I'd take the kids to Disney World for two weeks and let someone else clean up after us while we just laughed and played. I'd learn a foreign language and climb a mountain (a small one, I am in my forties, you know!). I'd start getting the stories behind the photos written down for the kids.
Sit in the audience for an Oprah Show (except when she's on her celebrity kick...), or Doctor Phil, or Deal or No Deal-- not yours, sorry, HATE Howie Mandel, but love Noel Edmunds over here. I'll eat in a Gordon Ramsay Restaurant on an evening when he's actually cooking.

7 months:

The panic sets in. I would make some letters or videos for the kids to have when they're older. Basically a "Things I wish I had known" thing with lots and lots of love and positive comments.
See every show in (on? at?) London's West End and on Broadway. I'd lie about my age and try out for American Idol (no, I can't sing), high-five Simon Cowell and tell Randy to stop saying "Yo dog", because it's aging him (and yes, I am SURE they'll believe I'm only 23).


7 weeks:

well, I'm going anyway, so I might as well lie on the beach with coconut oil containing only SPF 2 and tan away! I look so much better tanned. I would be super affectionate with my touchy-touchy husband. I don't like to be touched a lot (gee, I have had someone at my breast or hanging off of my leg every minute of every day for about 10 years now, I don't know why I don't like to be touched).
One of the days, I will sit by the window while the rain falls and read a good book and drink hot chocolate--without interruptions.
Go to the States and see my doggy. Bury my head in his fur until he gets tired of me hugging him.

I MISS MY DOG.

















7 days:

spend every moment talking to my family and friends, eating rich foods, and laughing. I'd be slaughtering everyone at Risk and NOT feeling bad about it.


7 hours:

sit with my family and take in the last sunrise and watch the last sunset (can be done in four hours here in the winter time) and teach my children to see the beauty we live in.

7 minutes:

Well, since I don't have to rush around and pack, I imagine the last 7 minutes would be hugs, a few tears and lots of kisses. AND I would remind my family, ONE MORE TIME, that I want a big party, not some sad, drippy funeral.

Are you up for the challenge? I'd love to see what you come up with, so please drop me a comment if you take and post this challenge.