Last Sunday we shopped in the Forest Hill Chase shopping centre, partly to look for kiddo’s stuff for a “show and tell” session in school. As we were about to leave, we walked past a Tatts Lotto outlet and saw a poster with the bright red ball with “22” written on it. Theresa and I looked at each other and said, “Yeah – why not?” It was a “powerball” draw (whatever that means) and it is to take place today

Today’s the draw. 22 big ones. It’s only the second time we have bought a lottery ticket. It is more a fun, raffles sort of thing. There’s a sense of excitement which clever advertising has obviously and successfully created.

I was just dreaming about it (the advertising catchphrase was “ticket to dream”) and thought about what I’d do if we actually win 22 million bucks. Would I quit my job? I guess so, but what would I do? I guess most of us work because we have to. So if you suddenly have 22 million dollars, you’d start thinking about stuff you really want to do.

Yet as I thought about it, would I make any sense if I said I don’t want the trap of freedom from routine? If I say routine liberates me, that having to wake up every morning (especially on a Monday) to go to work on time and put in the required hours, that these obligations liberate me, would I make any sense?

Imagine having to do nothing everyday. Wouldn’t that be a trap that emasculates instead or is it a liberating act which empowers? I know, I know, true freedom comes from wanting to do something, and doing something because one wants to, not have to. But what if you have no conviction of any kind and you only do what you want to do for some epicurean indulgence? I mean if I have nothing to do, even if that means I don’t have to do anything, what would I choose to do?

I could choose, because I now acknowledge the role God has in our lives, to preach the gospel or serve in the church in some full-time capacity. But that is a calling, not a volunteer’s first port of call. I must fit into His purpose and He must see it fit to use me, for which I believe some preparation is essential (before the calling comes). What do I do then? Charity work? But I have no heart in that one. Travel? Not without my family, and my daughter cannot grow up an idiot just because I now have 22 million dollars – she has to go to school. Employ a private tutor? No, I want her to learn like everyone else, to get along, to overcome bullies, to have homework, music lessons and all the other worries of a typical high school student. So if she has to go to school, how can Theresa and I travel? We have to wait for her school holidays.

What WOULD I do? I think I’d still go to work. Yes, wake up early every morning and go to work. So I guess the 22 million dollars wont change very much of what I do day-to-day.

Speaking of waking up, isn’t it about time for daylight savings? This delaying of daylight savings because of Commonwealth Games business is annoying. Isn’t it bad enough we have roads closed all over the city, we now have to live with pitched dark mornings because of some third rate Games? The Commonwealth Games is third rate, is it not? Especially now that Ian Thorpe would not be swimming and Paula Radcliff would not be running? Who else isn’t coming? I wonder if Asafa Powell now regrets showing up. He must be thinking he’s not in the “happening” party.

I can imagine the Sydney-siders sneering at us Mexicans now. They had the 2000 Olympics and we have the Commonwealth Games. They have the Oscars and we have some Malam Anugerah something – that’s the comparison, I guess.

Someone told me yesterday, that the Malaysian contingent had their boxes of Maggi Mee confiscated. I guess no one told them about the Australian quarantine rules. And no one told them you can get Maggi Mee pretty much anywhere in Melbourne where Coles or Safeway is, which is pretty much anywhere in Melbourne! But why Maggi Mee. I often wonder why self professed food lovers like Malaysians stick to our diet so much.

I recall being in Rome once with Theresa and her father. We missed Chinese food so much (read: rice and three dishes, preferably all cooked with varying degrees of dashing the soy sauce) we walked for over an hour all over the cobbled streets of Rome, looking for Chinese restaurants when the rich Italian cafes and cuisines are begging for sampling.

Thus when I found myself alone walking the streets of the La Ramblas in Barcelona, I happily sampled the tapas, paella’s and sangrias. They were wonderful. Even the oily battered deep-fried prawn cutlets of some smoky English pubs are to be preferred, when on a holiday.

Perhaps when I get my hands on 22 million dollars, I’d take my Theresa, her parents, my parents and of course kiddo, and go somewhere exotic like Burkina Faso, then pay some Chinamen to whip up our rice and 3 dishes. That would be truly liberating, wouldn’t it?