Every Wednesday and Saturday

You walk into the room and head straight for it, almost not realizing that your body is moving on its own accord. You walk, quickly, determined to it. Your hand is shaky, knees are weak. People in your way are thrown aside. You need this. You need another fix. You make eye contact fleetingly with the dealer. "3, please." He hands them over and try to steady your hands so that you don't miss a thing as you quickly devour them. The build-up is amazing, the high like nothing you've had before. But you come down much too quickly.

I wasn’t aware that only in Texas do we have an actual condition attached to the state lottery. I guess I figured that the lotteries across the nation incited hysteria the ways ours does when the jackpot is in excess of $20 million. But then, it is Texas, the land of the bigger and better, right? Doesn’t it stand to reason that even our lottery mania would fall be more pronounced here than anywhere else? Why would we half-ass that when we do so many other equally silly/trivial things at a 500% higher level than, say, Arkansas? Don’t get me wrong, I love Texas and love being a Texan, but, come on.
As an aside, where exactly is the money earned from ticket sales going? When we started this idiocy, the State told us that it would be poured into education (Which I find mildly ironic—we don’t allow gambling in public schools, yet we’ll use gambling money to fund those same schools. Hmmm.). To date, we haven’t seen a penny of it, and that was, what, 11 years ago?
You’ve probably already figured it out, but I’m not a lottery player. Sure, when the jackpot gets obscenely large, I’ll buy a few tickets, what can it hurt? I use my soda money for the week, which really is healthier for me. But, frankly, I won’t buy a lottery ticket unless I’m completely sure I’m buying the winning numbers. Since I don’t time travel, that ain’t happening.
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The morning after

I've never much liked the 26th .

There's all this build-up to Christmas Eve/Day, all the churchy stuff, all the cooking, gathering, excitement of presents (if you still get excited about presents), maybe family coming in. Then, Eve/Day comes along, you have a great time, are happy and excited about everything going on. You eat too much and get "fat and happy" when someone hands you that second piece of rum cake. You go to bed warm and contented and feeling good.

Eight hours later, you wake up. Fat, achy, grumpy. Today is clean-up day and put away day. Get rid of the wrapping paper that looked so pretty under the tree and carry boxes out to the trash. (When I was little, I couldn't play with the new Christmas toys on the 26th until I cleaned my room. What a way to screw up the warm fuzzies.) Family goes home, leaving their trash with you. The worst part is the left-overs. It's true what they say, presentation is everything. All that food looked and smelled fabulous when you came to the table for Christmas dinner. Now, it's packed into tupperware containers and while it's still going to taste and smell just right, it's never going to be quite as visually appealing.

My mother would insert here that it's not the way Christmas looks or tastes that is the important part, it's the religious aspect of it and the joy of celebrating the baby in the manger. Well, yes, this is true and I won't discount that part. But even the first church service after Christmas is a bit of a let-down to me. My pastor (and lots of pastors I'm sure) is at his best Christmas Eve and Easter Morning. He's always very good, and I've never regularly worshipped with a better orator and his theology is top-notch. That doesn't change the fact this morning's sermon will not be his best offering. And heck, I don't blame him. He's tired. He just did 2 church services 36 hours ago and had his own family Christmas stuff going on. But somehow, this morning's service will be a let-down after the wonderment I beheld Christmas Eve.

Hell, maybe it's just me. I can put aside some of my cynicism for no more than about 72 hours at a time. Or maybe it's because today is the day we visit the side of the family that specializes in making others feel two inches tall. Seems that always takes place on the 26th, as well. What fun.
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