This Stop Willoughby

My husband and I got married on April 22, 1989, exactly 22 years ago, today (there are a few wedding pictures here if you're interested).  Our first home was a one bedroom apartment in the suburbs.  We signed a one year lease, and our payments of $375 per month included gas and water.  The only utility we were responsible for was the electric bill which ran about twenty five to thirty dollars each month.  We were both working full time and this was long before we had discovered the (dangerous) joys of credit cards, so we had quite a bit of discretionary income left after paying our bills.  We were less than a mile from a busy shopping area that had dozens and dozens of restaurants offering fine dining to fast food and everything in between.  Sometimes it was just the two of us, other times we went out with friends, but we ate out pretty regularly. We didn't prepare meals at home often.  The kitchen in our apartment was...

Saturday was a gorgeous spring day, perfect for sitting outside.  Well, not really.  It was 45 degrees with overcast skies, but we have a covered porch and a heated pub table, so we pretended it was.  Add in great music, a lovely bottle of Chardonnay and some good conversation and it wasn't such a stretch. I don't recall how it came up, but Mr. Willoughby and I started talking about all the places we'd like to go and all the things we would like to do.  Before long, we realised we were making a "Bucket List" (list of things you'd like to do before you die, if you haven't heard the term or seen the movie).  It was informal, I didn't write any of it down on paper, though, maybe I should have.  Not because either of us plan on dying anytime soon, just because I think having your dreams and goals in black and white is sort of motivating. If I did write them down, I would have to make two separate lists because Mr. W and I don't always wa...