I am currently reading one of the many books that teeter unsteadily on the edge of my nightstand. Books litter the top of my stand, the shelf underneath my stand, the floor underneath the shelf, the 10-12 feet around my stand, the top of my dresser, and spill forth from a basket next to my dresser.

I guess "litter" isn't really the right term, since I abso "tootin'" lutely love books of all shapes, sizes, colors, lengths, and topics.

I have been thoroughly steeped in a series this summer that still has two more books out in front of me, plus the first in the next series about this same family before I am caught up and must await the author's next installment. I've almost consciously been slowing down my voracious habit of reading said books in mere hours so that I might not have to wait too long before the next one is released. I never like to be in that panting at the bookstore mode in which I feel I must tackle the poor, unsuspecting bookseller for the the first copy out of the packing case. Considering the next one comes out August 21, I need to rein myself way in so I don't chomp at the bit too anxiously.

One of the ways I've chosen to scale back on the reading of the aforementioned series of books is to read another author I adore. This title was actually on my Spring Reading Thing, so I am finally fulfilling some of that long ago commitment.

First off, if you've not read anything by Dee Henderson, get thee to Amazon, CBD, or your nearest local bookseller and procure the entire O'Malley Series, because once you start it you won't want to put it down. Nothing is more frustrating to a reader like me than having part of a series available and not being able to finish it when I want to.

Currently reading this particular book, The Witness, by Dee Henderson got me to thinking. In order to not be a spoiler -- I won't mention any names, but two of the main characters inherit an enormously large amount of money.

One of the angles the author begins to address is how your life would be handled differently as a result. She deftly discusses the security issues, the privacy issues, and the mental and physical strain of finding oneself unexpectedly responsible for so much wealth.

So, I got to thinking that age-old question 'What would I do if money were no object?"

Here is my list, silly, practical, and otherwise of what I'd do if money were no object:

1. Pay off all our debt and begin the process of adoption for the child God put on my heart over two years ago.
2. Buy a bigger home that would house that child and any other God would bring our way.
3. Make sure my children were comfortably set to earn any higher education available to them, leaving them a small inheritance in trust to be accessed after they'd reached a responsible age.
4. Donate a great sum of it to my dearest friend, relieving her of any future financial burdens.
5. Travel. Travel. Travel. So much world to see, and I would want to see it all!
6. Stock my library. So many books, so little time. I would have the library Belle was given in the Beauty and the Beast. That's my favorite scene in the whole animated movie.
7. Fast Car. No, not really. I'd probably get one of these. (not just the calendar) I'd have it custom-painted with daisies on the hood and roof.
8. Enable my parents and DP's parents to live comfortably and financially free of any burden for the rest of their earthly days.
9. Take care of our World Vision child, Lilly, through the rest of her young life and into adulthood.
10. I've always said there is something I would indulge in if money were unlimited:

Undergarments for my whole family -- I'd never wear a pair twice. I mean, wouldn't that just be a total indulgence? Take them off and throw them away -- every day. Who likes to wash those anyway?

So, those are some of mine . . . what would you do if you could throw caution to the wind? What dreams would you fulfill? How would you live differently given a large sum to do so? This is kind of like a meme, so take it to your site if you like and let me know. I'll come read yours!