Today as I did dishes, I got to musing on what $175 million would do to my life. What would I actually do if I won? Kristi and I would get a house, somewhere here in Linden Hills. Maybe we'd get three bedrooms - so she could have a proper office, and we could have a library rather than storing almost all our books in boxes, and we'd have a guest room for friends and family. We'd have a dishwasher. And a washer and a dryer. A two-car garage. A regular size fridge. A stove with ventilation. Central air. A porch or a sunroom, and a yard all our own. Maybe we'd get nice furniture - maybe a nice dining room table from Ikea, where the leaves are stored underneath the table and are easy to put in when company comes. I could have a workroom where I can build things. I could have a powersaw. On that note, we could have very nice health insurance with a low deductible and vision and dental included.
We'd pay off school, of course. Get new cars, maybe - or at least I'd get the radio fixed in my beloved Honda. Maybe we'd get a kayak, or a canoe. Heck, we could get both. We'd get a new cat tree for Oliver. Maybe a dog, since we'd have a yard.
Then I thought bigger. We could do all the things we've talked about doing but can't afford. Like traveling to see friends whenever we wanted. Or traveling to Italy, or Spain, or Norway, or all three. We could go see a Twins game whenever we wanted. We could see the Packers play the Vikings; we could get tickets to -both- the Basilica Block Party and to Rock the Garden. When the Indigo Girls are playing in Fargo, we can just buy the tickets and drive there. We could learn to windsurf and snowkite. We'd start the non-profits we've talked about - I'd do low-cost website setup and maintenance for churches, or drive around town in my Ford F150 rescuing broken furniture and fixing it up in my workshop and donating it. I'd learn coding, and skateboarding. I'd get better at playing guitar.
Today, as I checked my Powerball numbers, I realized I'd won the lottery.
We live in Linden Hills already, just two blocks from the co-op and the library, and six blocks from the gardening center and the liquor store. We live blocks from both Lake Harriet and Lake Calhoun, and we've gone kayaking and winter kiting and found the troll tree and biked and walked and found little baby painted turtles and seen a fish jump clear out of the water.
We live in Minneapolis which for all its snow I would go toe to toe with anyone in the world and still call it my favorite city. We live on the bus line which takes us right to our favorite restaurants and our favorite hairdresser (shoutout to Kayte at Floyd's 99 - you rock!).
We live in America. As angry as I am that the U.S. Government just saw fit to pull an extra $300 out of my bank account to fund wars that we'll never win fought by my queer brothers and sisters who live in fear (did I mention that I'm angry?) ... that same government is headed towards repealing DADT and maybe even the DOMA. I don't have the right to marry Kristi, and it breaks my heart every time I check "Single" on an application; but at the same time, no one in this country has the right to stone us or set our house aflame or legally prohibit us from living together or walking down the street hand in hand. It's not Iceland but it puts us far ahead of plenty of countries where my queer brothers and sisters live not just in fear but in pain inflicted on them by their communities and their government.
And as much as this country drives me crazy, there's a reason we have to set up visas and green cards and there's a reason that people's veins stand out on their necks when they shout about illegal immigration, and that's because this is a darned good place to live.
Kristi and I both went to a small, private, liberal arts college. We didn't learn nearly as much as we could have and we'll never learn even as close to as much as we could or ought, but Saint Olaf College laid a foundation for us to be servants of the Lutheran church (we were both confirmed there), to be intelligent thinkers in the world, to be sincerely contributing members of society.
I quit my job in December, because it sucked, a lot, and for those co-workers left behind I imagine it still does. Unlike the majority of my friends, and of Americans, I could walk away from a job that paid almost double minimum wage, plus benefits, and I've survived four months by cobbling together babysitting, high school speech judging, yard work, and a very-much-part-time church job. Kristi was laid off in April of last year, and she's found two part time jobs and also seen unemployment checks coming steadily in. We're paying our bills, and spending a little more time on Craigslist (both buying and selling), and we're getting by pretty well.
I'm going to seminary in the fall. I'm waiting on scholarships, which will make a big difference, but I'm lucky enough that no matter what financial aid I'm offered, I'm going to school. It makes finding a job hard, and I'm entering a field that's high-stress and low-pay, and I'm so excited about it that I can't breathe. I get to do what I've wanted to do for so many years. I don't have to put it off, or forget about it. I get to do it.
We're part of a faith community that loves us. I mean really. It's kind of ridiculous. If we don't show up at church, we get calls. The youth like me, which is really odd because I've never really gotten on with anyone in middle and high school (especially when I was -in- it). It's like a giant family reunion every Sunday, with lots of cousins causing trouble and crazy in-laws forcing potato salad on us, and we love it.
And we're surrounded by friends.
And we have each other, which is a miracle that I give thanks for every day, because there are definitely a small and finite number of people willing to put up with the crazy things I say and do on a daily basis much less hourly.
And we have God, which is cheesy but true.
So, yeah. I won the lottery.
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