Listen, man. We both know we want to win the Mega Millions.
Did I just learn of its existence yesterday? Yes. Do have to have a long committed relationship with what legal gambling is, its history and merit of the lottery system to qualify for, get ready, MEGA? MILLIONS?
That’s a hell no. Thanks, Lotto system, for making it so easy for me to hear about the pot from Emily and trot my sweet ass up to the Bronco Spur for a couple of hot tickets for me and my baby. Two. Two mega millions tickets, please. And there was Rachel like the sweet angel of mercy that she is, taking a break from prepping personal mini pizzas to fulfill my request. And I paid her the four dollars and off I went like a dummy down a yellow brick road.
And here I am. The morning of the draw feeling pretty dang excited at the notion of extreme abundance in my free tshirt, sweatpants, red bandana, drip coffee in free coffee mug in a half-packed house come quickly, Lord Jesus.
In fact, you might know this already, but I’m always game for Jesus to come back. He’s my “get out of jail free'“ card and most days I think I am totally cool with him coming back at any given moment. I especially like the notion when I’m staring at a mountain of laundry that needs folded or a Childrens Christmas Program that needs rehearsed. BUT, dear reader, yesterday, there I was, in my yard with my husband and I said (remember this, this is important), “I don’t want Jesus to come back until I get at least one morning to drink coffee on our new deck.”
Noted. Dunbar doesn’t want the second coming of Christ until she gets one hot cup of Folgers in New Jersey in her lawn chair looking out at her new backyard. Let’s pray the Cosmos heard me, y’all.
So there I was yesterday, cleaning out my pantry and cupboards with my best friend sister, Emily, at my side and she tells me Megan got them all Mega Millions tickets. And I’m like, “Tell me of this free money /America is a dreamland/yes, toss those three bags of powdered sugar but keep the bag clips/ how do I get my own two tickets to paradise?”
And it turns out all you gotta do is find a mini-mart and a Rachel-type angel, get yourself two dollars and the dream is your’s.
If I had Mega Millions on one side and the one hot cup of Folgers coffee looking out at my new yard somewhere in Jersey on the other, dudes, I’d pick the coffee. If the Lord himself deems it appropriate for me to get both? Not gonna argue.
I jest. I am jestingly joking, everybody. Calm the hell down. I am also stirring the energetic pot by cleaning out cupboards, getting rid of clutter, moving things around, moving my whole human family east, imagining something new and bigger and I gotta say, yesterday was a mega millions type day. Elon Musk woulda hated it, but I liked it.
I got my first east coast gig confirmed, I got a show inquiry out of nowhere, a friend of mine texted me telling of a HUGE gallery sale she made, our front windshield on the red car got repaired, they put down those nail strip thingies you need to lay carpet down in the basement, the guys dropped off a huge load of roofing supplies to re-roof the house tomorrow. And the beers we treated ourselves to at the bar yesterday afternoon only cost four bucks a piece (that’s a total of 4 mega millions tickets for two beers). If that kinda winning doesn’t signal Mega Millions tickets, well I don’t know what does.
Yes, I have an over active imagination. Yes, my dreaming life is more interesting than my real life. Yes, I don’t mind imagining even a sliver of mega. (I’m like the mom at thanksgiving who will just keep telling you to slice the mega millions pie thinner with a, ‘oh well that’s too much, can you just cut me off about half that much, sweetie?’). A sliver of mega to take with me to my new place with my deck and my coffee before Jesus comes back.
Wealth is a trickster. Wealth is a siren, you better know wealth or it’ll fudge you real good. Wealth is a moment, a feeling so expansive I’ve felt it before and I’ll feel it again. It’s disembarking from the bullshit, throwing your watch in the water, breathing in breathing out and the birds and the trees and the morning and the evening and the holding on loosely and the sky up above us that never runs out. It’s Rachel at the Bronco, it’s Emily junking parsley, it’s the boys driving off to go hang with their friends. It’s a backyard and red blend and washing the windows and giving space to just feeling what the heart wants to feel. It’s Marci on a Thursday, it’s Byron and Jody bringing over jerkey fresh off the smoker, a homemade card to reflect on twelve good years gone by. Wealth defined helps us find it around every corner and be thankful when we get it and not flip out when it’s gone. It’ll come back, it comes back covered in frosting and candles, it comes back as the boy back from college who doesn’t get why exactly Mom’s crying as he walks up the drive. Wealth comes back in a garden, on an airplane, in a moment where the two of you sit social distanced outside discussing the present, hopeful for the future, full knowing the heart holding both in its scales. So Mega Millions sounds cool and would add to the picture a better floaty, a cooler car, a new chaise lounge for my deck, but if it’s not in the numbers and if it’s not in my fortune for fortune to find me and for mega money to be mine, I’ll still pack up the boxes, look forward to Jersey, wait for Jesus, and pay by monthly installments from now til the end.