Well, this is a first. I haven’t had my birthday hit on Easter Sunday since back in 1956 when I was knee high to a 9 oz. bottle of Schlitz. In our family, we always get together for Easter and cook enough for the North Korean Army. No. We don’t invite Kim over but you get the drift of the analogy. We also buy the Birthday boy or girl about 10 of them Scratch and Sniff Lotto tickets. It’s our civic duty to throw money away into the State’s coffers. Used to be for schools but then one day it got repurposed for “studies”.
Being older, I only got five tickets. I guess my kids think I’m luckier than them and only need five whacks at the Piñata. I came up with a dry hole and then scratched the last one.
So imagine my surprise, not to mention good fortune to note I was the big chicken dinner winner on my birthday. Shoo doggies. What are the odds?
My Lord. I knew I was lucky but this is pretty cool beans. My loving daughter asked me if we had to take it to Olympia to the Lotto Headquarters or if we could just go down to the local Desperation Delicatessen (7-11) where she brought it. I flipped that baby over to get the skinny and suddenly remembered what day it was. Punked. Worse, and even more painful- punked by my kids.
Come Christmas, I reckon I’m gonna go down to our fuel dealer and rustle up some lumps of coal. Ho, ho, ho my ass. Oh yeah. Happy Easter.