Show me the money... please?

I bought a ticket today for the Lotto Max. I bought one last week and was disappointed I didn't win the $43 million. My disappointment was short-lived as I realized that no one claimed the jackpot, raising the stakes to a sweet $50 mill. What I would do with that kind of money...

My temporary money woes would be no longer. Not only that, but I wouldn't have to worry about any subsequent pay cheques and the companies that may or may not be forking over the dough for my work. I visited my brother this evening and was not surprised that he had the same hopes and dreams for the potential cheddar. Paying off the house and doing some much-needed reno work was on the list. So was paying for an around-the-world dream trip for our parents. It was like our lists were mirrored.

And that's not all. Tonight I discovered we shared another dream - buying our grandmother's house in Markdale, our father's hometown, the house that bore all of our initials and the names (and dates) of our ancestors. He has a better memory of the house than I do. He remembered which way to turn to get to the bathroom, our grandmother's bedroom and the walk-through to the larger than life bedroom situated at the front of the house. He also remembered the porch that held residence on the top bedroom window, a porch that was no longer there. Structurally, it was probably the one thing that should have been removed. As far as I could remember no one went out onto it. No coffee on the porch, no rapunzel like visits. Besides, my hair has never been long enough for that.

"I've always wanted to go back and buy the house," he said. "How much do you think it would go for today?" It was like he had reached into my brain and tethered himself to my exact thoughts. With the $50 million, it wouldn't matter how much it would go for on today's market. We'd have enough, and then some.

Other items were on the list too: the same around-the-world trip for the parental units, trust funds for his kids' (my neice and nephew's) education, putting away exactly half for good, solid, sound investments and a major trip for the family and perhaps a new car or two. I would also set up a charity for kids with Christopher's rare form of brain cancer, funding research and new initiatives and money earmarked to help these kids realize once-in-a-lifetime dreams. During Christopher's journey, he stayed at the Darling House in Milton, a home away from home for kids with a full-time medical staff and very caring social workers who were there to give parents a break and give kids all the hugs, kisses and laughs they could bear. There's always a need for those, and Christopher was notorious for melting my heart with his laugh, hugs and kisses. He is still my own personal darling and I would love to give back to the people who made his days a little more bearable, even if he did steal all of the cookies from the kitchen.

I think most of us have similar lists. What would you do with your sweet mill or 50?