A* and I trotted ourselves up to our local 7-Eleven and bought Powerball tickets. I've only bought lottery tickets one other time, when the jackpot was really high like this one is now. The odds are so overwhelmingly against you, it's not really worth it to buy tickets regularly. This pot is something like $290 million. That's the kind of sum where it's silly to think about what you'd do with it all. I mean, you'd have to work really, really hard at spending that much money. I would invest most of it so no one in our family would ever have to worry about money. I would buy my older brother a house and a new car. I wouldn't want to move, just fix up our house. I would not worry about finding another job and just keep doing what I love and let Aaron keep doing what he loves. I might go back to school and get my MBA. Oh, and pay off debt, naturally. I would always buy organic. I would buy the good toilet paper. I would always tip big. And, if I'm really going to be honest about it, I would take a flight down to San Francisco and go shopping and buy lots of pretty clothes and makeup. That's the one really dumb thing I would do.

A* and I are both lounging in the living room hovering over laptops. Even though the sun is beginning to set it seems to be getting hotter. I'm writing this, tinkering with my template, which is still inaccessible to Netscape users. (What do you do for a living again? Usability consulting? Riiiggghht.) I should be balancing the checkbook and paying bills. A*'s writing up his resume, the first one he's had to do since 1996, in preparation for the job interview on Monday. I've been leaving the subject alone, knowing this isn't what he really wants to do. He wants to keep working for himself. But the way things are with both of our job situations, he can't pass up this opportunity. Is my resume done yet? No. It's not. I'm a loser. And a very bad wife. Thanks for asking.

Head foggy. Must attend to imperative tasks. Need more chocolate cake.

- august 25