Ah! Winning the lottery Who doesn’t dream of this happening? I’ve dreamed of it so often, for years I considered it my Retirement Plan. No. Really.
But then again, I’m already retired and have I won the lottery? Heck no. Good thing I kept my day job.
Still, it’s fun to play “What if…?” I know a few things I would do, for sure.
- Take the money in a lump sum. None of this doling out the funds year by year. No one knows how much time they have left, and if I get called to heaven sooner than I think I will, I want to have enjoyed every single cent I can before I go.
- Pay off all my debts. Not that there are all that many, but I’d like not to have to worry about owing anyone. That way I can lay on that beach with nothing niggling at the back of my mind. “Did I pay the mortgage this month?” “Do I have anything left on the student loan?” “Have I paid the pool boy his monthly stipend?” Nope. Don’t want any of that on my mind.
- Gift those I love and who have loved me all these years. I’d give my mom and aunt anything their little heart’s desire. Ditto for my wonderful in-laws. And my friends—I have a few who could really use some help. One dear friend has a son with autism, and another has a brother in the same boat. I’d like for them not to have to worry about their loved one’s futures.
- Donate to my favorite charities. Shriners Hospitals would get a big donation, as would several other places. If I have it, I want to share it.
- Go back to Scotland. It’s one of the places I’d like to visit again and
show it off to Jack. Scotland is one of my favorite places on earth. - Buy books. If I have anything left after all that, I’d buy as many books as I want.Yippee!
When we buy lottery tickets—which is not all that often—we buy only one. Don’t have particular numbers, don’t say a prayer beforehand or go through any special rituals. I figure if God wants me to win the lottery, one ticket will be enough, and it won’t matter which numbers I choose. If God doesn’t want me to win (and so far, not that I doubt His wisdom, but I do think it’s an oversight on His part), it won’t matter if I buy a thousand tickets or use the birth date of the Archangel Michael for the numbers. So far, God has seen fit to keep me humble…and poor. Oh well. Life is still good.
What would you do with lottery winnings?
.
Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.
Dee
Burning Bridges by Anne Krist: old letters put the lie to Sara’s life. Now, mending her past mistakes while crossing burning bridges will be the hardest thing she’s ever done.
I might be one of those few people who really things the great outdoors is overrated. I don’t particularly enjoy being in the bright sunshine (I have to worry about a lady’s fair complexion), I’ve never been one for sports or strenuous activities, picnics only attract insects, and sitting out in the late evening with a cup (or glass) of an adult beverage has me swatting mosquitoes and wishing I were inside on my recliner. In other words, having an extra hour of afternoon sunlight has never been important to me.
Or one that doesn’t backup, only changes by going forward and you have to go through a whole day’s worth of hours in order to get it set properly. One year I forgot how to change the time on my car’s clock and had to keep the correct time in my head by mentally adjusting it back until I was relieved by the fall’s change. Such a pain!
aren’t so many changes marked by editors now. Impatient Passion was the first time I’d ever been edited, excluding school where “editing” meant being graded. I didn’t view it as a fun experience then. Since then I’ve come to accept that it’s a part of the writing process—a good part!
I am of the firm opinion that D-I-E-T is a 4-letter word. It can make strong women gasp and weak women wilt. It stirs more feelings between the sexes as other, more sexual words do not. Such as, Gender A resents the feeling that they have to diet to please Gender B, and Gender B feels some guilt for the desire to see Gender A in skimpy bathing suits that might require—yes—a diet.
near the water. Nine years in Virginia Beach during my pre-teen and teen years meant that my mother and I spent March, April, and May eating lots of carrots and celery sticks. Neither of us wanted to be odd girl out when we hit the beaches—not that I did all that often with my Irish, burn-don’t-tan complexion. But still, I wanted to look the part. I can attest to the fact that dieting for summer is a stupid way to live your life, and fortunately, I gave it up many years ago.
Yes, when I read something outside my comfort zone, it is likely to be non-fiction. Why is non-fiction kind of weird for me to read? Because I love romance, thrillers, police and FBI procedurals, legal mysteries, all things that spur emotion. And let’s face it, most non-fiction doesn’t really make your heart jump or adrenaline spike. Or the heart go pitter-patter. But once in a while I do pick up a non-fiction book. But only when the subject matter really (really, really) appeals to me.
Bradley) told the story of the U.S. Marines at Iwo Jima. This was a hard book to read at times, but my father-in-law fought in the Pacific as did my great-uncle, so I thought it was important. Marine! The Life of Chesty Puller (Burke Davis) tells the story of the Marine Corps legend. My father-in-law was a Marine and you say the words Chesty Puller and practically every Marine in the room stands to attention. I wanted to know why.
I have a very small family. I’m an only child. In Jack’s family, his parents had his brother and him, and neither Jack nor his brother aspired to having children. So if I want to ask about memories, I have few choices.
and aircraft carriers and far below the water line. Did he ever have any harrowing experiences? What was it like working in those conditions? How did he sleep in an area filled with other guys, and did he get homesick?
While I didn’t watch the Super Bowl this year—except for the last 10 minutes or so to see the Chiefs win—I did see a few of those special Super Bowl ads.
No one who lives in the U.S. can be unaware of our current toxic political climate. It’s gotten to the point where people can be attacked for the hat they wear, or an argument can occur between strangers over a candidate’s plan for health care. Know what it is? It’s ridiculous, is what it is. When did we stop being a country where people could disagree without fear of fistfights? When did people stop mattering less than being “right?”
Mom and Dad usually voted for the candidate who supported the military more. My grandmother was a die-hard Democrat, a union steward in the plant where she worked, and had strong opinions she would voice anywhere about who should be running things. Contrary to most of my contemporaries who grew up during the Vietnam War, I leaned more toward my parents’ views than the revolutionaries’. Now, my mom leans more toward her mother—less conservative and more progressive. Do we battle it out during phone calls? Yes. Do we still love each other? YES! We’re family and we love each other despite any comments about the elections.