You know that feeling in the final moments of a football game when everything is tied up and all you have to do is catch the ball when it is thrown to you and run with it? 

The adrenaline.

The aspirations.

The people that depend on you.

The people cheering you on.

The game is on the line and it's all up to you to see it through.

Well, I dropped the ball.  I didn't just fumble it.  I never caught it to begin with. 

Last night my dad's bday came out again.  I had a burning feeling to play his numbers because he has come to stay with me for a little while.  I did play his and my mothers' for mega millions the night before.  They are both March birthdays.  But I didn't play them for powerball....where it came out.  They were all my numbers.  All except the powerball itself.  13 is not a number I play as the powerball's red ball very often.  So I would not have won the jackpot (which has happened to me before with this very same birthday number set) but I would have hit the 5+0.  And who wouldn't want an extra $250,000 to play with ?  And kicker?  My dad joked that I didn't get his numbers.  He said, "well, you didn't pick up mine." when I told him where me and my hubby had been walking.   (He was joking.  He never plays the lottery.) 

Oh, well.  Someone much wiser than me once said, "I don't think you're making any progress if your enemy doesn't react." So, maybe I'm making progress somewhere I am just not aware of as yet.