This week, the Mega Millions lottery has reached $340 million dollars. Every time it reaches these outlandish amounts of money, my husband and I play the game where we decide what we are going to do with it when we win. I think the resulting breakdown tells a lot about our respective characters.
We always start by subtracting a little less than half for taxes. So for this week’s windfall we’re looking at just under 200M in take home dollars.
Aaron began by divvying it up among our families, allotting our siblings 2-5M a piece. He subsequently created trust funds for our nieces and nephews for college and beyond. This landed around 2M a piece.
As a good son, he gave all the parents including my mother a million. This time, because our fortune is going to be so large, he earmarked a select few good friends $500,000 each, then explained that they can also have whatever they want — cars, boats, new clothes. Obviously, he explained, if we go on vacation with them, we’ll pay.
I’m really glad my husband is so generous because my list started with an on-call masseuse and a beach house in Cabo. It ended with a privately owned tunnel system throughout the tri-state area to avoid rush hour traffic.
I suppose this level of selfishness extends to most of the daydreaming I do. For example, I rarely meditate on the health and well-being of…anyone. But I do often plead with the universe for fame.
I know that I have already been interviewed on Q-FM96’s the Wags and Elliot show in Columbus, Ohio and one time I was a featured extra in Dune the Miniseries starring William Hurt (if you click on the link, start watching at 6:07. I am the “Mother.” Please inquire privately about autographs and special appearances). But I still hope that someday I will appear in “People Magazine,” and not because I escaped death during a natural disaster (but, frankly, I’ll take it).
There are a lot of ways a person can be famous. It’s important to be specific when asking the universe for celebrity, because things can go horribly wrong if a mistake is made. (Right, Anthony Weiner?)
I have already figured out a number of things I won’t be famous for: 1. Being the youngest to master something. 2. Mastering something. 3. Being fashion forward. 4. Starting a chain restaurant. (However, not for lack of some truly fantastic ideas including “3-Ways,” a restaurant that prepares dishes 3 ways: healthy, regular and really really bad for you. I know.)
While I am able to outline to the universe the myriad ways in which I hope to avoid fame or infamy including giving birth in a cab, giving birth to a litter (especially in a cab), becoming too fat to leave my house or accidentally triggering a series of events that lead to the breakdown of the power grid, my hopes for fame are really rather quite simple: I hope that I will someday sell so many copies of a book, I’ll get to go on Oprah for both a one-on-one interview as well as a follow up apology episode.
I want to achieve the kind of fame that lands me on a red carpet in a really beautiful dress I didn’t have to pay for. I want to help develop a recipe book based on the favorite foods of a character I wrote or wrote about. I want to swing by ILM and make sure the models they are building for the movie of my book properly reflect my vision for the alien colony (or, fine, pot island).
But before this gets too nerdy, let me just make one quick deal with the universe: If you give me the $340 million this week, I will totally give up the fame thing and go with my husband’s generous monetary allotments, forgoing the underground tunnel system. Kay. Thanks.