Lucky day.

I didn't really know what to write about today. I need a break (in every way) from the two small children, but I had some time to kill. So why not entertain myself the blogging way? Anyhow, turns out today is 1.11.11, which many say is lucky. I wonder how many nincompoops will get married today, kind of like that craze over 7.7.07 (for the record folks- some things just can't save a crappy marriage, as Tony Parker and Eva Longoria will remind us).

Anyway, I can't mock too much because I am still guilty of "kissing" the clock and making a wish when all the numbers are the same. I also ate crayolas as a child, so there might be a connection there...

I had a little fun on Google searching for superstitions. I found two that I especially loved: apparently, an old wive's tale is that if you meet either A) a chimney sweep or B) a black cat on your wedding day you will have a happy marriage...

What I really want is to meet a black-cat-chimney-sweep. You might think this impossible because, after all, cats have no thumbs making the process of operating a broom difficult at best. But I would like to site the case of my little sister's cat, Digit, who had at least eleven extra toes on each paw (he was inbred, god bless him); with slightly more brain matter, he probably could have run a GM assembly line with moderate success. However, I do admit it's quite unlikely to run across a black cat that also happens to be a professional chimney sweep. In lieu of that happy occurrence, I think what I really, reeeeeally want is to meet a delightful Cockney chimney sweep, a la Mary Poppins. Actually, if I'm gonna run into a chimney sweep on my wedding day I would be de-flippin-lighted if it were in fact Dick Van Dyke with tap shoes and all. Also, I would like him to tap dance across the ceiling while singing, as he did when I saw the west London stage performance.

Now that, dear readers, would be lucky.