Many of you have no doubt seen various versions of the “100 Things To Do Before You Die” posts roaming about on The Internets in the past week or so, one of which activity-laden list was written by one Mrs. Maggie Mason, and subsequently picked up by other awesome blog-owners like this one and this one.

I started my own “Things to do before I travel six feet under, not to the HBO show, although that would be awesome” years ago after first watching A Walk to Remember, mostly because a young and gravely ill Mandy Moore shares her Last Wish List with a young and eager Shane West, and it was a sweet and enchanting idea to me at the time.

I have since lost that list. Naturally.

While I admittedly thought long and hard about publicly admitting I have ever watched such a movie starring such a homely-looking Mandy Moore, I did for a few minutes mildly love that film, if only for the fact that she never wears a drop of make-up in any scene, and yet her beloved finds her lovely, even while she looks perpetually pallid. While I was watching it I couldn’t help but whimsically imagine a man who would endlessly love me when I looked a hot mess, a man who would make me laugh, a man who would drop everything and make me a home-made telescope just so that I could see the stars. I knew Chris was that man the fifth time I ever talked to him on the phone. Not that our courtship and subsequent engagement wasn’t entirely more complicated than the très simple that sentence would seem to insinuate it was, but still, I knew he would drop everything for me if I asked him to. That he would breathe so that I could if I needed him to.

So, yes, I mildly loved a A Walk to Remember, for many reasons, not the least of which is the fact that the part where Shane blindfolds Mandy and drives her to a place where he strategically has her straddle a state line, just so she can cross “Be two places at once” off her list, is quite possibly the most cleverly romantic movie scene I have ever seen.

Jen, even as I typed this part of the entry, I could literally see you regretting your request to befriend me on Netflix. I’m SORRY, but I can make no reasonable excuse for my sometimes nonsensical taste in movies. Please don’t stone me with your old and beloved VHS tapes.

Oh, and speaking of random, if you haven’t already, feel free to feast your eyes upon some of my all-time-favorite movies, via the newish Cinematic! Ecstatic page.

(Mandy Moore-related aside: She’s great in Saved. I highly recommend it.)

My overall point to this post is to say that, in the spirit of the recent list-making festivities, I re-wrote my list, and it was HARD. I’m thinking I should frame it and hang it somewhere in our apartment, or have it tattooed on my forearm, or something, just so I don’t forget I really really REALLY want to do all of these things.

I kept my list shorter than one-hundred, mostly because I only wanted to add things I would make a priority if I indeed knew when my time would come. I am always perpetually adding to every list I make, so I’m sure it will grow in years upcoming.

Do you like my incessant need to preface EVERYTHING? Me, too. Diving right in, then:

Kerri Anne’s Bucket Pail List:

1. Have myself a real live “Shark Experience,” and live to tell everyone how I wet myself before during and afterward. Behold the awesomeness.

2. Watch Chris play guitar the way he plays guitar (see: amazingly) in a dive bar in Nashville.

3. Go sky-diving with my little sister, like we tried to do years ago, when the weather was less than cooperative.

4. Finish two novel-length manuscripts.

5. Visit Lithuania, where my paternal grandfather was born.

6. Dance in the waves of the Pacific Ocean on this beach, until I make myself motion sick. Again.

7. Write and publish two children’s books illustrated by my good friend Alexis.

8. Spend three full weeks at one of my favorite places on all of this earth: Priest Lake, Idaho.

9. Swim the stretch of river that stole my father from me.

10. Step foot on African soil.

11. Live by the ocean so that every morning I can smell the way salty, sultry waves mix with crisp, clean morning air.

12. Become a certified scuba diver.

13. Take a riding lesson, or three.

14. Drive the 101 from Port Angeles to Los Angeles with my Hans and other beloved friends and family in tow, caravan-style, Journey blasting from my radio.

15. Watch a New Zealand sunset with my good friend Lisa.

16. Sit with my maternal grandmother on her couch and rub her tired feet while we talk about nothing and everything.

17. Go fishing with my parents and enjoy the way they love each other, and the way they love that lake for all it signifies to them.

18. Visit London in spring-time and Paris in the fall.

19. Watch Ray Lamontagne play a live show, from the front row.

20. Train for and finish a half-marathon.

21. Watch Chris put my Karaoke abilities to shame, and watch him try to run for the door when I stand to sing Whitney Houston’s “I wanna dance with somebody,” and Mariah Carey’s “Someday.”

22. Weed my paternal grandmother’s rose garden and listen to her tell me stories about my dad, and my aunt Anne, and the way she and my grandfather were able to raise six children with only one bathroom.

23. Visit Nantucket so that I can write “Call me Ishmael” in the sand.

24. Attend Mass at St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York.

Let me know if you feel like writing your own, or sharing one you’ve already written. I am endlessly interested in (you! yes! and) your lists.

Title from this post is from Ray Lamontagne’s, Shelter.