Mama needs some new shoes

Today at the football field in town, 40 gazillion residents of Miami are going to gather with their handfuls of tickets in hopes that one of their numbers will be called to win "Chamber Bucks," other handy-dandy prizes and etc, etc. The grand prize is a truck. The truck is mine, fools. Be warned. I did not spend that much money at my local Wal*Mart, keep track of those tickets for over a month now and listen to my husband scoff at my ridiculousness just to walk outta there with nothing more than wind burn and tangled hair. I will win that truck. Or at least a football autographed by a celebrity (that I would promptly give to my nephew.)

They're giving away a Dodge Dakota and by golly, I would drive it. Heck, I need it. Do I really want a truck? Nah, not really, but the Astro is on her last leg - er....tire - and well, a little Dakota would be a fine and dandy replacement. At least until I can trade it off for a new Astro.

Mom and I have strategic parking plans, we have our tickets taped and indexed in notebooks and I'm wearing a pantyliner just in case I tinkle a little when they call one of my numbers.

Today should be fun, what with the 496 mile an hour winds, the fact that my eldest was up half the night puking and my husband has decided he has too many things to do to watch the kids while I go out and stand with the other crazies in town.

Oh yeah, I feel lucky.