I used to abhor the idea of bucket lists — I think because it was so trendy, and I generally go the other direction of trendy things. I tried not to like the Beatles when they stormed the shores of USA with their phenomenal music, hard because I loved the sound, but hated the mania part — a trend everyone was into. I eventually came around, though.

I have come around to bucket lists now, too. I just don’t call them that.

I’m seriously considering returning to competitive softball playing, after 4 years away from it. I retired when I found it exacerbating my vertigo attacks, the summer they found my facial nerve schwannoma (tumor). I was proud of myself for walking away without ever having gotten seriously injured (beyond a few broken bones and bunch of stitches). But I’ve gained 28 pounds in the 4 years since I quit.

I thought about it this week, and decided to get back out there, and see if I have any game left. I now feel like I might have retired prematurely. If I can still play, I should be playing. In a few years, I will be too old.

Plus, I’m getting tired of lugging around this extra weight. Playing will peal these pounds right off (I hope).