They had never lived in a home, but thought it was about time to find a little place in the country.

“Look”, said the Fairy with a voice like a bell, “I think this might be a great place to build a summer home”.

“Let’s go check it out”, said the Fairy with flickering wings.

And so, our story begins….

*Please note, no Fairies were harmed in the making of this story.  All renditions have been carefully drawn by Grandchildren, Nieces, Nephews and other wonderful children who have visited over the past several years.

As you may know, Mr. H. and I have enjoyed our little Fairy house guests and were happy to welcome some new Fairy friends.

We already had the perfect place to set up their new home and (mostly) had all the ingredients to make many of the items needed by the Fairies in their new digs.

These cold boxes were made from old windows.

We use them to harden plants in the spring (and to hold all the extra plants I grow or buy that I cannot bear to throw away).

We didn’t need to do much to prepare the boxes for habitation.

We already had holes for drainage.

We lined the bottom of the box with some gutter filters.

(By the way, don’t tell Mr. H., but when I went to the hardware store to buy another filter for the other box, I found out they cost $16 each!!  I think we will use packing popcorn next time).

To keep the soil from falling through, we also lined the box with landscape fabric.  You do understand, don’t you, that by “we” I mean Mr. H.?

Thank you Mr. H.

This box sits on our black top driveway and really bakes in the afternoon.  We hedged our bets by lining the box with watering mats and then adding soil moist granules to the soil.

We still have to water every day.

We added the soil…

…and some heat tolerant plants.

Seriously, you can put this Fairy Garden together with just a few “found” objects.  (As you may have guessed, “found” is a loose term in this house).

I had a bird house that hadn’t been painted yet (shocking, I know).  Mr. H. knocked off the top and added a door. I painted the birdhouse brown and then added some stones with my handy-dandy glue gun.  Be sure to paint the inside brown or black.  My neighbor, Vicky, was completely mesmerized by the interior of the cottage.  Spooky, but you want to go in…..

I then added moss and dried leaves.  $5.99 at Hobby Lobby (Cooper generally has a smile on his face.  I think he’s worried that his Grandmama has flipped.  I mean, who buys moss and dried leaves?)

The finished product was a perfect size for two traveling Fairies.  (In case you are wondering, this holds up well in rain).

For the walkway, I used flat stones I just happened to find in some of our borders (oh, if you happen to run into Mr. H., I “found” these stones.  Somewhere else.  Not in Mr. H.’s borders.  I would never do that.  Really).

I glued clear glitter to the tops of the stones (I used Mod Podge.  I use Mod Podge for almost everything, unless I use my glue gun.  See the sparkle?  Probably not.  It’s just so hard to capture sparkle on a camera.  But, believe me, it’s sparkly.  Very sparkly).

I decided that the Fairies might want to raise bees.   The bee skeps were made with hemp, a small pot (or thimble) and Krazy Glue.

I wrapped hemp around a small pot.  (I used a thimble for the smaller bee skip).  Oh, and I used Krazy Glue to keep the hemp together.  So, let’s review.  If I can’t use a glue gun or Mod Podge, then I use Krazy Glue (or Super Glue or Gorilla Glue).

I haven’t seen any bees yet, but it’s just a matter of time.

The rake was made from the twigs from our Harry Lauder Walking Stick tree.  Any twigs will do, but if you happen to have a Harry Lauder Walking Stick, you will most definitely want to make your rake from the crookery twigs.

A glue gun and twine hold the rake together.

I happened to have a bag full of these wood shingles.  I got them from Michaels a couple of years ago.  I can’t remember why I got them, but look how useful they are now!!

I used some wood shingles and my trusty glue gun to fashion a bird-house.

Before I put it all together, I used a hole punch to make an entrance for the little birdies.
(Yes, I could have used a wood block, but then where would the birds go)?

I made a little perch out of a piece of wooden skewer and then attached the whole thing to the rest of the skewer (I am very conscientious).

Once the house was secure, I was able to give it a paint job in readiness for some tiny little birdies to take roost.

All self-respecting gardens have gazing balls.

Marbles glued to long golf tees are perfect Gazing Balls!

A small juniper will provide shade for the garden.  I cozied up a twig next to the tree for a swing.

Yet another wood shingle provided the base of the swing.

A smaller hole punch allowed me to thread some twine through the base of the swing.   I had forgotten to paint the swing, so pulled the twine out of the holes, painted the swing a nice redwood color and then re-threaded the twine (a little glue or Mod Podge on the ends will assist in threading through the holes).

I added some vines from a wreath I happened to have (really, why do I have all this stuff?)

Some small flowers helped to decorate the perfect perch for little Fairies.

Hemp provided the base for a bird’s nest.   I just began to roll the hemp into the shape of a nest, using Krazy Glue to keep the strands together.

Moss and twigs were used to “feather” the next.  A tweezer helped with this delicate operation.

All ready for some eggs.

With a sea shell, a door stop and some small decorate beads (thank you, Martha Stewart. Thank you), I was able to make a little bird bath.

The sea shell needed a little oomph, so some Mod Podge and beads helped to glam up the situation.

I thought the design of the door stop I found (really, I found it.  It was just sitting there, waiting for me to use it.  Honest.  And, anyway, Mr. H. really wasn’t using it) was perfect for the base.  A little Mod Podge and decorative beads punched it up a bit.

I glued the top to the base and voila!!

I thought a bird bath would be cute for the little birdies taking up residence in the nest and bird house.

Miranda (my darling Niece) made this picture some years ago, but I thought it was a fitting welcome for our new Garden Fairies.

The Fairies (now known as Bell and Flicker) are very happy.

*Check in later this week for more Fairy Garden accessories.  I have 26 people coming for Memorial Day.  Naturally, I am going to make more Fairy things……

…and yet….

…when I am out and about in the world, certain smells pull me back to very special feelings about very special women in my life.

When I smell flour or bread dough or any lovely baking smells, I am reminded of my Grandma S. and baking with her in her kitchen at the farm….

Thank you to all the women in my life, in the past and in the present, who have nurtured me.

Listerine and Dove soap remind me of my Grandma W.  Perhaps because there was so much huggin’ going on.

Thank you to all the trusted women in my life, who have helped to make me feel safe. 

My Mom’s signature smell was Estee Lauder’s Private Collection.  I have a bottle at home and spray a little every so often to remind me of Mom.

Thank you to all the beautiful women in my life, who have brought elegance and style into my life.

My particular concoction of Lavender rinse and Downy assure that Children, Grandchildren, Nieces and Nephews can take a whiff of a newly washed blanket, stuffed animal or t-shirt and think of me.  ”This smells like Grandmama…”  That just makes me happy.

Happy Mother’s Day.

I hope you smell.

I wake up with the sun filling my room with light (the glowing dial on the clock finally seared through my closed eyes).  Bluebirds are singing (the fire alarm is chirping again.  Where are the batteries?).   I dress for the day in a stylish outfit (oh, these aren’t really pajamas, I always wear flowered flannel pants during the day).  No hair is out of place (why do I look like a scared raccoon?) and makeup is unnecessary (can I use toothpaste to fill in frown lines?).

Breakfast is served on a tray by a grim-faced, but kindly, butler (how long has this bagel been in the bread drawer?).   My day stretches out before me with only one…perhaps two … things that need to be done.

Okay, perhaps the reality of my life hasn’t exactly lived up to my Disney-fied, Gone With the Wind dreams, but I really did think I would at least not have to worry about getting things done.

I would be wrong.

I’d like to introduce you to my day.

It isn’t pretty.

I have tried several different ways to keep track of the things I need to do.  Plans, lists, scraps of paper, apps, project planners.

You name it, I’ve tried it.  Nothing works.

So I thought I would just make my own To Do list (I made this instead of folding towels).

Now, that’s more like it.

I happily spent an hour writing down the things I need to do (I really needed to get my hair cut, but I just don’t have time, now).

I ran out of room.

Back to the drawing board (instead of weeding).

I nailed it. I’m sure of it.

I took time to write my new, enhanced uber-to-do list (does it count if I write down that I need to send Birthday cards?)

Unfortunately, I still ran out of room and now I’m feeling quite overwhelmed.  I went shopping instead.

I need another, perhaps simpler, idea.

Doggone it.  I think this just might work.

I’ll let you know.  I’ll put it on a list.

This may be of no value to you whatsoever, but I’m going to share my To Do lists with you.

To-Do-List.pdf

My lessees have free electricity, free WiFi and free rent.

Very benevolent.

Of course, I really have no choice.

I rent to Fairies.

While I believe in Fairies, they evidently don’t believe in paying rent…

…and they are messy.

Look at the mess they made tracking dirt through the house.

After all, they have wings.  Why the tracks?

I had to find out more.

I peeked through the window to see what was going on.

Ahh.  It appears as though my little Fairy friends are getting ready to garden.

Still, they could have wiped their little feet.

If you have some little friends living in your walls, you might want to give them this template for seed packets.

Go ahead, it will make you feel good.

Click here to download a pdf of Miniature Garden Seed Packets.

Fairy Garden Seeds pdf

I got distracted…

So that you will believe me, I’ve made some drawings of our home.

I wouldn’t want you to think I was exaggerating.

See?  Huge.  Vast.  Immense.  Humongous.  Big.  Really Big (I’m running out of synonyms, but you get the drift).

Big.

Okay, so perhaps the reality is a little less….Big.

In fact, our house in Detroit had a total of 899 square feet.  How we were able to fit everything (including 4 children – Jimmy wasn’t born yet) in this house is beyond my understanding.

But, it was a perfect house and we loved it.

A couple of weeks ago I visited my sister and brother-in-law, Karen and Rich.  Karen asked what I wanted to do.  I asked if we might go see our house in Detroit.  None of us had seen it (except for Google Earth) in almost 50 years!!!

Loaded with cameras and expectations, we took off for our old neighborhood (between West Chicago and Joy Road).  The neighborhood had changed a bit, but the biggest difference was the trees.  When we were little, we had huge Elm trees that nearly covered the streets with their branches.  It was like a cathedral.

Unfortunately, Dutch Elm Disease took all of these wonderful, stately trees.  In spite of the DDT spray applied by small planes and helicopters (“Parents, keep your children and pets in the house.  There’s nothing to worry about, it’s just a precaution.”) Dutch Elm slowly but surely decimated the Elm trees in Detroit.

Except for the trees, it was not drastically different from when we grew up.  Oh, some of the houses had fallen in disrepair, but an equal number of houses had been improved.

As we turned the corner on to Manor, both Karen and I were just about jumping out of our seats.

We slowed down when we got close to the house.

And then we got a little self-conscious as there was a man outside sweeping the drive.  We didn’t want to seem rude.

Evidently we were not as subtle as we intended, as the man turned and looked at us with a quizzical look on his face.  I rolled down my window (here I go again.  I did NOT roll down my window.  I don’t even think it is possible to roll down a car window.  I used the button).

Me:  “Excuse me, do you mind if I take some pictures?  We lived here when we were little.”

“That must have been close to 50 years ago.”

Me (thinking….I guess I look my age after all):  “You’re right.  How did you know?”

“Well, my wife and I bought the house from your family. We’ve lived in it ever since”.

WHAT?  WHAT DID HE SAY?

The door popped open, Karen and I tumbled out and we managed to introduce ourselves while we hugged and laughed and stuttered in amazement.

Eddie G and his wife, Ann, raised three children in our childhood home.   Their kids had left, but they still loved their home and the memories of raising their family.  We compared notes, told stories of our childhood (he was polite enough to act as though he cared) and just generally had a ball.

Eddie took us into the back-yard to look at the deck he installed and the landscaping he had put in (in back of me so you can’t see it in this picture).

Our backyard in the 50's. Lots of ivy, so the screened porch was a necessity.

Karen and I reminisced about the back-yard and all our good times.   Hollyhocks growing in the alley, the dog-house for our dog Pepper and the ice rink Dad put in every winter (are you surprised to know that we thought it was the same size as the one in the Ice Capades)?

After gabbing a bit more with Eddie (Ann had to go pick up their grand-children), we hugged some more and said our ‘good-byes’.  It made us feel good to know that our home was in such good hands.

I am still smiling.

From there, I thought Mr. H. and Rich would be interested to know that we had to walk such a long way to school every day.    At least a couple of miles, maybe more (up hill, in the snow…you know what I’m saying’)?

Okay, maybe only .54 miles.

But I was really little, so I think it might have been farther for me.   (That’s me and my posse.  I’m in front with the pinafore dress.  Second to the right.  Bowl cut hair-do and big ol’ smile)

We went to McFarlane School, but it was closed.  Still, I am pretty sure I could smell the cafeteria food and eraser dust.

From here, we were just a hop, skip and jump to our Grandma and Grandpa W.’s old house, so naturally we had to drop in.

No one was living there any longer, so it hadn’t received the TLC of our old house.

It still looked very much like it did when we were little.  I wonder if there are still rubber bands around the kitchen door handle? (I’m on the left, then Karen and Cathy.  Mom was a firm believer in the bowl cut).

Mr. H. and Rich thought we’d had plenty of excitement for one day, but we had to make one more stop.

Our Grandpa W. used to pick up the best fish n chips in the world and bring them home for dinner when we visited.

He always went to Scotty’s Fish ‘n Chips.   Naturally, we had to go visit.  I told Mr. H. we were just going to pick up some “fish to go” for old time’s sake.

The guys waited in the car while Karen and I went into Scotty’s.

You know how this is going to end, don’t you?

Nothing had changed.  From the patterned carpet to the wood and vinyl chairs it was just as we remembered.

As we walked in, a nice looking man peeked out from behind the counter and told us to “come on in”.  I explained that we were just visiting and that we were reminiscing about the times we used to pick up Fish ‘n Chips with our Grandfather.

“Well, I’ve been here since 1964 so we probably met”.

That’s right.  Harry worked at Scotty’s when he was still a teenager (and we just might have seen each other at that time) and now owned the business.

My nostalgia-filled head was about to burst.

More hugs.

I explained that we were just going to pick up some fish to go.

“No, that won’t do at all.  You sit right down and really enjoy the experience.  I’ll play music that we might have heard years ago and you can enjoy the best Fish and Chips you’ve ever had”.

You didn’t have to ask us twice.

We did have to ask the guys twice.

Once we got the guys out of the car and into the vinyl seats we had a ball talking about the old times.

Harry was the third owner, but he maintained all the ambience of the original restaurant.

The prices probably changed, but not much else on the menu.

In the day, Scotty would wrap out take-out order in newspaper to keep it warm.  Harry says he sometimes still uses newspaper around the butcher paper to keep food warm.   (Not Harry’s hands.  Our darling waitress was preparing a carry out).

If you eat Scotty’s Fish ‘n Chips, you MUST use Malt Vinegar on the fries.

It’s a law.  I think.

Harry was not kidding.  These were the best Fish and Chips I have EVER had.  Really.  The Best.  As you know, I am not given to exaggeration, but even if I were, these would still be the best Fish and Chips EVER.

If you are in the Detroit area, be sure to visit and tell Harry that we sent you.  Scotty’s is located on the corner of Fenkell and Lahser.

Okay, I’m spent.  That’s an awful lot of nostalgifying.

On the first of many early mornings, Luci had no idea what was going on, where she was going or who she would see.  It appears as though she really didn’t care.  She was up for the adventure.

I was hoping the rain was only happening at higher altitudes.

I was disappointed to discover it was falling all the way down to the ground.

Kendra and Luci did some shopping, journaling and Starbuck-ing while they waited for me to land.

You have to love a hotel that’s located on the corner of Fashion Avenue.  Oh, what, there’s a Chipotle restaurant there too?  Why, I hadn’t noticed.

We stayed at the Hilton in the Fashion District and were impressed at this thread display behind the registration desk.

Sunday Night. New York City.  Fashionable Chelsea District.  Interesting People.

is no match for …..

P.J.s.  In-Room Movie.  Room Service.  My sweet girls.

Bad news.  We had to get up early to be at the studio by 8:30.

Good news.  We were only 1 block from the studio.

Bad news.  It was raining.

Good news.  We had perfectly darling umbrellas.

There were a handful of men standing in line with all the other ticket holders.    Their eyes were inextricably drawn to…..

(hint: the red truck passing by)

Out of the misty haze, an araucana-and-amaraucana-chicken-egg-inspired-spire of Martha-ness beckoned.  “Come to me.  Come to the hallowed halls of Martha-dom.  Come and watch what you will never be able to achieve.  Dream and then Dream On”.

and so we came….

and we dreamed.

Before the dreaming began, though, we had to get into the studio.  I gave them our reservation and in return they gave us a ticket marked with bright pink highlighter.

We found out later they marked each ticket with a different symbol.  The symbols indicated how we were to be seated in the studio.

A small group of women had a number instead of a color on their ticket.

They had nice shoes.  They sat in front.

I’m not entirely sure what the second group represented (they had a yellow mark on their ticket), but we were the pink ticket holders and were seated on the aisle (at least Luci was seated on the aisle).

Joey, the warm up guy, entertained us a bit and gave us specific instructions.   If he claps, we clap, if he rubs his belly we say “ummmm” and if he cocks his head to one side we say “awwww”.   He didn’t give us any signals for “yechhhh”, so I’m guessing that particular response is not appropriate.

Once seated, we were completely in awe of the sets.

Check out the white cupboard with the pencil yellow color on the inside.

I want.    “Oh…Mr. H……”

Spoken like a true Martha-phile

Check it out.  In the prep kitchen.   The Modernist Cuisine.   Oh my.  The Modernist Cuisine.  Brother Jimmy will be green with envy.

I have one…exactly one….craft punch.  Imagine a shelf full!!

The drawers, the shelves the counter space.  I am swooning.  Even the little tiny side cupboards were cute.

How does she do it?

Minions (and maybe a table or two on wheels).

Lots of minions (and a prep kitchen).

Wonderful, creative, hard-working minions (and really good lighting).

I gotta get me some minions (and moveable tables, a prep kitchen and lights).

and possibly a teleprompter.

Yes, we did want to try a cranberry-cherry brownie, and Martha did make a batch.  She shared them with Joey the warm up guy, and then shared the recipe with the audience.  As soon as I get around to unpacking, I’ll be sure to share with you as well.

At this point, we were not allowed to take any more pictures.  I wish I could have captured Luci’s face as Joey (now the announcer) said….”here she comes…Martha Stewart”.

Martha was in the prep kitchen, put down a piece of paper (menu?) and walked out on to the set.  Luci just stared.  She was perfectly still.  You could almost feel her heart beating.  It was worth getting up at 8:30 to just see her face.   After Martha gave a big wave to the audience, she gave a sweet little wave with her finger tips up to where Luci was sitting.  Honest.

They taped six episodes and I couldn’t take my eyes from Martha.  I can’t really explain the Martha-ness of it all, but suffice it to say that after the cameras were off (commercials) she was still …. supremely, sublimely …  Martha.   She would pick up a dish rag and wipe off the counter, take bites from the food that was recently featured and just generally kitchen around.

It was wonderful.

She was wonderful.

After they were done taping the show, Martha answered some questions and we were able to take a few pictures.

Yes, we were on the show briefly.  Somewhere in the sea of Orange (clearly the color of 2012) you can see me in my Dreamsicle-like outfit.  On the aisle you can see a very intense Luci and between us, beautiful daughter Kendra.

It was a good day…

Thank you for inviting us to be in the audience of your show.

We had a ball.

I do, however, have some small suggestions.  Just in case you find yourself on TV again.   I know you won’t mind.  Just some small suggestions.

I know you can’t control the weather…(yet)….

…but would it be so hard to weave a photovoltaic cloth to cover the studio?

It might have prevented this…

…and this.

As for the time you asked us to be in line at your studio.  I think 8:30 a.m. is just a little too early.  How’s a girl to get her beauty sleep?

While we appreciated the free coney dogs (offered while we were waiting in line), 8:30 is still too early.

(although we thought it was perfect for after the show).

In spite of the lovely Danish Modern chairs and the puppy pictures, your waiting room is a little …. stark.  Reminiscent of a bunker or a bomb shelter.  Perhaps a little Martha Stewart Blue on the walls would make this more inviting….or some pillows….or some air.

Please don’t put cryptic symbols on the tickets.  We know why you do it…

and it sort of hurts our feelings.

We were so happy that you thought enough of us to give us lovely parting gifts.  Perhaps a cookbook that did not feature pig ears (with or without hair)  would be more appropriate.

That’s all, Martha.  Just a few little suggestions.  I know you won’t mind.

Until next time, thank you …..  we had a blast!!

Martha, this next bit is for my faithful readers.  You can go now, I am sure you have other things to do (like, maybe, work on the photovoltaic cloth).

Dear Faithful Readers:

Thank you for being so excited about our Martha trip.  I will be posting all the details (yes, it was great fun) in a couple of days.  I just had to thank Martha first.  You understand.

What?

What’s that you say?  Martha called?  Do you mean Martha Stewart? (uncanny how I am able to exactly determine what is in your mind when you are reading this.  Even the inflection…)

Here’s the story….

I may have mentioned this before (and it’s possible I may NOT have mentioned this before), but our grand-daughter Luci LOVES Martha Stewart.  This isn’t a passing fancy.  Unlike the Wiggles, Barney and Phineas and Ferb, Luci’s love for Martha Stewart is deep and abiding.

(from one of my favorite episodes – Martha is showing us how to fold a towel…ahhhh)

From the time she was three years old, Luci would sit with wide eyes and great anticipation waiting to see what miracles Martha would create on her show.   Luci would watch every show from beginning to end.  I am sure she had images of Tromp l’Oeil, himalayan stitching and truffled macaroni dancing in her head.

Birthday and Christmas presents were laced with Martha Stewart hole punches, specialty paper and glittery jars of magic.

Luci was smitten.  (Yes, this is Luci watching a Martha Stewart show.  Smitten)

Up until recently, I have been going to New York at least once a month for work and always had in the back of my mind that it would be fun to take Luci along so we could go  to a Martha Stewart show.  (Have I mentioned that I LOVE Martha Stewart as well)?

As it happens, I am no longer traveling to New York on a regular (or any) basis, so had sort of forgotten my “back of the brain” idea to take Luci to see the Martha Stewart show.

But, one day last month I read that Martha Stewart would no longer be taping her show!!!  Oh no!!!

In an inspired fit of “can-do” spirit I quickly went on line to see if we could still apply for tickets to the show.

Only two dates were available, April 23 and April 24.  My fingers flew across the keyboard.  Tickets for April 23.  Two adults and one child.  I told Luci’s story in the area they provided for any special needs (I suspect they might have been referring to handicap access).

I hit enter.

and then I waited.

After three days, I hadn’t heard anything and went on line to see if I could somehow “influence” the result.  No deal.  Unfortunately, while on line, I discovered that we had a ….let’s say….complication.

Did I mention that Luci just celebrated her 7th birthday?

Doom.  Despair.  Desperation.

And so, carrying my shame and sorrow like a blanket, Mr. H. and I decided to leave town for a couple of weeks.   I needed to shake off my malaise (and visit some dear friends and dear family in the process).

I’ll fill you in on the trip in a couple of days (think Pasties, Smoky Beef Stew, Senet, Felted Clutches, Detroit and babies).

Three days into our travel, I received a call.

From New York.

I generally don’t take calls from unknown numbers, but this time I picked up the phone.  (By the way, does anyone say “pick up” the phone any more?  Am I the only one?)

The call was from the Audience Coordinator from the Martha Stewart Show!!!  Honestly, I don’t remember the entire beginning of the conversation, but at some point I heard “we have three tickets on hold for you for the Martha Stewart Show that is taping on April 23.  Can you go?”

Can I go?  Can I go?

After several giddy (and slightly embarrassing) more minutes on the phone, I hung up (again, I don’t really think I “hung up”) the phone.

Thanks to the wonders of cell phones, I was able to call my daughter (shrieks), arrange for flights (painful) and freak out about what to wear.

Because “what to wear” on the Martha Show is a big, big deal.

I had packed for two weeks on the road with friends and family (if you’ve been following me, you will notice I pack the same amount for two day trips).

I did NOT have any outfit that would even closely resemble the “dressed to impress” clothing directive.   Even if I had thought to bring my grown up clothes, it would have been my normal “uniform” of black or gray or tan.

<sigh>

And so, dear reader, Luci her mama and I will be going to New York and will be IN THE AUDIENCE of one of the last Martha Stewart Shows!!!!  Look for us, I will be notable only in that I will be clothed in whatever I can forage during my travels, but by jingo, I’ll be on the show….

I’m more than a little disappointed as I only buy lottery tickets when the payout is more than $200 million.   It seems only fair that I should win the one time I buy tickets for the year.  I mean, for the other 51 weeks in the year, I am graciously allowing everyone else to win the lotteries that are less than $200 million.

You’re welcome.

When Mr. H. realized I had bought $11 worth of tickets for this last $640 million jackpot, we engaged in our yearly lottery, logic and lightening discussion.

Mr. H.:  You know the odds are against you winning the lottery.

Me:  But, someone has to win and I don’t see why that someone can’t be me.

Mr. H.:  Well, the odds of winning are about one in 195 million. So, that means that you’re about 100 times more likely to be struck by lightening three times in a row than you are to win the lottery.

Me:  Ha.  I have you there, Mr. H.  I know I can increase my odds of getting struck by lightening by going outside in a lightening storm carrying an aluminum pole and then tying myself to a tree with said aluminum pole so that I don’t fall down the first time I get struck by lightening and am still erect for the next two strikes.

Mr. H.:  You would die if that happened.

Me:  You never said I had to be alive after being struck by lightening, so I still win.

Mr. H.:  How in the world does that help you win the lottery?

Me.  Oh, that has nothing to do with the lottery, but I wanted to help you understand how you can increase your odds.  With the lottery, I have increased my odds of winning by actually purchasing a ticket.

Mr. H.:  It think your odds of winning the lottery are about the same whether you buy a ticket or not.

Me:  Well, that’s where you are wrong.  Think about it, there is no skill to winning the lottery.  There is no geographic tendency.  The numbers drawn are random and not affected by tides or sunspots or gamma rays.  From my perspective, you either win or you lose.  See?  One of two things will happen if I buy a ticket.  I am either going to win or I am going to lose.  My odds, then, are 50/50.

Mr. H:  I am going to go mow the lawn.

<sigh>  Sometimes I wonder about him.  He just doesn’t understand logic, I guess.

Unfortunately, this year I didn’t win.

That’s too bad, because I built a spreadsheet some years ago that will kick into action the minute I match all six numbers.   When jackpots get really big, and with a 50/50 chance of winning, I get pretty anxious in the run up to the drawing.  As much as I would like to win the money, I think too much money can create a lot of havoc in people’s lives.  As a result, I worked out a way to distribute the money to friends and family so that no one is filthy rich.  Maybe dirty, but not filthy.

It’s a brilliant plan.

Here’s how it works.

You enter your winnings in the top cell and it gives you an idea of what you have to work with.

See?  It works for any amount.

Then….you identify the people you want to share your winnings with and what percentage you wish to give them:

You may need to tinker a bit with the payout, but you get the drift.

Once you have determined the share you wish to give, then you need to make a list of all the people (yep, all 25 nieces and nephews).

Once you enter your winnings, it just cascades down and automatically fills in the amount everyone would win.  (I have removed names to protect the innocent, so don’t bother trying to see if your name is on the list).

Now, all I have to do is win the lottery.

Mr. H: (upon noticing that I am sharing my handy-dandy, fool-proof lottery sharing scheme):  You shouldn’t post this.  Wonder if you win?

Me:  I have a better chance of getting bit by a werewolf.