Friday, November 13, 2009

Friday the 13th

It's Friday the 13th and you know what that means, don't you? It means Beware of Men Wearing Hockey Goalie Masks:

Or THIS could happen to you

Oh, that Patrick. I used to love him. LOVE. HIM. I was DEVASTATED when he retired. But Patrick has not been behaving nicely since his retirement from the NHL so I had to end our relationship. And I've moved on to George Parros, whom I love and adore

Anyway. It's Friday the 13th, the day when everyone's superstitions come out to play. My Gramma had all sorts of superstitions. Hats and shoes placed on the bed was bad luck. Opening an umbrella in the house was bad luck. When you moved into a new house, you were supposed to carry a cat into all the rooms of the house and then put the cat outside through a window. The cat would then take all the bad luck with it out the window. She made my parents do this when they bought their first house, the house I was born in. She also believed that if you walked out one door and didn't go back in the same door, you would have unwelcome or unwanted guests. Palm itching? Gramma believed it meant you would be getting money.

I'm not superstitious. Much. I know that stepping on a crack will not break my Momma's back. I don't toss salt over my shoulder if I happen to spill some. Yes, I knock on wood but I don't really BELIEVE it. It's just a habit. No, I don't walk under ladders but not because I believe it's bad luck. I don't believe rabbits have magical feet. It certainly wasn't good luck for a rabbit to lose his poor paw. I don't believe if you break a mirror you'll have seven years of bad luck although I've never put that one to the test and quite frankly I don't intent to.

I don't believe that if you whistle while passing a cemetery, the dead will rise up and haunt you. Recently I put that one to the test. I was at a local cemetery and was walking through basement of the mausoleum

which is a pretty spooky place because it's not just quiet in there, it's like deathly quiet. Very, very still. Very, very eerie. So I started to whistle, not loud but after a few bars I had to stop because I'll admit it, I got creeped out.

But I doubt I was followed home by a vengeful spook when I left because that would just be silly to be believe that sort of thing I say as I knock on the closest piece of wood.

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