What I would NOT do if I won the lottery

The last couple weeks I've been involved in a thing or two only because I need the money. I'm not talking drug peddling or prostitution or any other equally unsavory deed, just things I really wouldn't be doing if I didn't need the money.

Which has gotten me thinking about a few other things I wouldn't be doing if I had more money.

If I won the lottery, I would no longer:

• clip coupons for grocery shopping.

• go to the grocery store, for that matter; I'd shop online and have my groceries delivered.

• drive to Denver each time I fly somewhere; I'd fly out of my local airport, no matter the cost.

• drive my dinged-up 1998 Ford Explorer...to Denver or anywhere.

• feel like my blog photos are inferior; I'd have a better camera and take photography AND Photoshop classes.

• be without cable television.

• buy my dog's food at Walmart.

• feel guilty that my piano has not been touched in months as I spend nearly every waking moment on tasks that might make a penny here and a penny there.

• delete without viewing the weekly e-mail newsletter announcing upcoming concerts and performances.

• deal with obnoxious neighbors; I'd build an 8- to 10-foot-tall fence (height depending on ordinances I've not yet researched). Or I'd move.

• turn down invitations to cover interesting events because I don't have the travel budget to get there.

That said, at least I'm able to buy groceries and dog food, have a vehicle to drive, can fly to see my daughter and grandsons now and then, and receive invitations to attend interesting events.

Yes, things could indeed be far worse.

Still, it sure would be awesome to win the lottery.

Or Publishers Clearing House.

I'm not picky.

(Just a complainer now and then.)

Photo: MS Office

Today's question:

If you won the lottery, what would you NOT do?

I swore I'd never

 I swore I'd never blog. Too self-involved, too navel gazing for me.

Yet, here I am.

I swore I'd never join Facebook. Too many people wanting to be friends with someone (that'd be me) who's not really all that friendly.

Yet, you can find me on Facebook...in not just one place but two: personal and bloggy FB pages.

I swore I'd never join Twitter. Too silly and psycho with all that personal disclosure of little import streaming by.

Yet, you can find me there daily, tooting and tweeting as @GrandmasBriefs.

I swore I'd never post videos on YouTube. Too many bad videos of kids hiding out in their bedrooms creating snippets of stuff their parents should ground them the rest of their lives for doing.

Yet, I not only visit it often, I regularly share videos from there and, get this, even have my own YouTube channel.

I swore I'd never join Pinterest...mostly because I didn't understand what the <cuss> it was.

Yet now I'm pinning and pining away on Pinterest...far more often than I should be...am far more in love with it, am more obsessed with it, than I should be.

I swore I'd never win Publishers Clearing House.

WAIT! That's not true! I've sworn again and again and again, for years and years and years, that I was going to win PCH!

I think I get it now: All these years, I have taken the wrong route to reward with PCH, using positive declarations and visualization techniques in hopes of seeing the Prize Patrol Van show up in my driveway.

High time to change all that.

I swear I'll never win PCH...I swear I'll never win PCH...I swear I'll never win PCH...I swear I'll never win PCH...I swear I'll never win PCH...I swear I'll never win PCH...I swear I'll never win PCH...I swear I'll never win PCH...

Today's fill-in-the-blank:

I swore I'd never ____________, yet now I'm _______________.

Prize Patrol

I hereby admit that I spend an inordinate amount of time entering the Publisher's Clearing House sweepstakes (online at PCH.com, not the paper entries with lots of stickers and such). I figure my odds are getting better and better, especially now that I'm a grandma. It seems that it's always old people who get to scream and cry and shout "hallelujah!" when the PCH Prize Patrol rolls up to their house and knocks on their door, flowers, balloons and an oversized check in hand.

I've known for many years that I will be visited by the Prize Patrol myself one day. I had Megan so convinced one year that on the date the Prize Patrol was scheduled to choose a winner, she was quite devastated when our doorbell never rang. I learned then that I need to keep my PCH beliefs tempered ... at least with the girls ... at least until PCH does show up at my door.

At performance review time at my most recent job, when I had to write down my one-year and five-year goals, my five year plan always included some mention of winning PCH. I've never been a ladder climber and figured it was better to be honest with my employer that once the oversized PCH check arrived they'd have to find a replacement for me. It usually brought a few chuckles during the review process; they apparently didn't understand how serious I was.

But I am serious. One day I will win PCH! You all read it here. And when I do, it's not new cars or a new house or fancy clothes or high-end globe trotting that'll be among my first purchases (after paying off bills, tithing and helping out family, of course). No, my first big purchase will be a ...

JUNGLE GYM! Much like this one:

Very cool, don't you think?! I can just see Bubby climbing, sliding, swinging ... and leading the swarm of grandkids to come in all sorts of creative play at Grandma's.

Of course, those of you who've been to my house know that my yard won't accommodate such a splendiferous structure, so the other part of the plan -- and Jim and the girls and even some friends have already heard all about this -- is that I will offer lots of money to my next-door neighbor, raze their trashy home (an eyesore for the neighborhood!) and create the play area of all play areas there. Where I can watch my grandkids play. Right from my living room window.

An added bonus: Razing the house next door will give us back the view of America's Mountain that originally belonged to this house, before the neighbors made their mess (aka home) there! I can't wait to watch the sun set over the majestic peak.

So, note to PCH Prize Patrol: I do believe my time has come. You've received thousands of entries from me. I'm now old enough and grandma-like enough for you to roll up in my driveway, bearing an oversized check with my name on it. I'm not much of a screamer, but I promise to shout and scream and cry appropriately for your cameras. So bring it on ... please ... Jim has only two weeks left at his job and we could certainly use the money for the mortgage and health insurance -- and a jungle gym!