If you didn't go back to read all the comments on the Bloggerversary Contest Winner, Alesia sent this comment:
Thanks everyone! My box arrived yesterday, sadly (yet somehow appropriately) the lottery ticket was a loser. Auntie Rose is now in a place of honor in the dining room hutch.
Just like Auntie Rose to send you bupkiss. She stiffed Ma too, out of $2M yesterday. At least you have the consolation of the Little Debbies. Ma's only consolation was me raining on her parade.
It started yesterday when I brought lunch to have a visit with the Weebles. Ma wanted me to take her to the post office because she had received a registered letter. She took a half an hour to get ready.
In the meantime, I found the card the mailman left to see who sent the letter. There was no name, no company, just a bunch of numbers. A bogus notice. Secretly, I hoped it was from the FBI indicting Ma with illegal gambling or terrorist funding. Or maybe a bill from the telephone company with all the charges for calls to Jamaica that I had the phone company remove from the bill.
I was also wondering why the mailman didn't leave the letter. Ma is a virtual shut in and she's home all the time. If she ventures outside, it's to sit in a chair on the front porch. I guess the mailman knew it was a fake letter and didn't want to bother about it.
Finally, Ma is ready. We drive to the post office. Wait in line for days because there is only one clerk working. A second clerk was at the counter but he was ignoring the line.
Ma got her letter and two books of stamps. As I'm juggling, the letter, her pockabook, and trying to put away her checkbook, she's demanding I open her letter.
"Let's go to the car, Ma. My hands are full and I'm dancing as fast as I can."
I got her settled in the car and she opened her letter.
"I don't have my glasses. Read this to me."
"I can't read and drive, Ma. You'll have to wait until we get home." Besides not wanting to drive into the guard rail, I can't read while driving as I get motion sick.
On the ride home, Ma is dreaming of riches. She'll pay for my girls' college education in full. I'd rather she pay me for the furnace, but I don't say anything. All I can think of is if she won, all the strings that would be attached to the winnings.
At home, Ma looks at the letter and focuses on the big $2 Million printed on an official looking certificate.
She's fairly dancing around the living room with joy. I started thinking of the father from "The Christmas Story" when he won a prize for entering a crossword puzzle contest.
"A major award! A major award. Hot damn!"
Too bad Ma didn't win the leg lamp. At least she would have something to show for all the do-re-mi she's spent on these contests.
"See," she said shoving the letter at me. "I told you I was going to win."
I read the letter. It stated if Ma sent $20 her name would be put in the next round of entries for a chance to win the $2 million. Just like Auntie Rose to stiff Ma again.
"You didn't win anything."
It was sad to see her face fall. All the dreams and all the control she would have with the money.
"All they want you to do is send them more money so they can trick you into thinking you won a contest."
I should have brought Ma a box of Little Debbies. She already has the framed picture of Auntie Rose.