The luck of the Irish!

My paternal grandmother was a McKenna from Nova Scotia who had her family traced back to Ireland. I think that if there was any luck in her Irish blood that it must have thinned out by the time it got to me. My luck, when it comes to prizes, lotteries and games of chance, is pretty much non-existent. Oh wait! I did win that Nike tote bag one time. And there was that time when I was about 8 or 9 that I won the jackpot when I went to bingo with Grandma and Grandpa. Of course my older cousin Dave had let me stand in front of him in line so my Mom made me share my winnings with him cuz you just know that my lucky card was supposed to be his lucky card.



I'm thinking my cousin Dave got more of the lucky Irish blood than I did.



So here I sit with my less than full strength lucky Irish blood pondering life (cuz you know I have nothing better to do!) and I've decided that I am indeed pretty lucky...



Why just last week I was lucky to have any hair left on my head when I went in for a TRIM. Why, oh why do I always get the hairdressers that are measurement impaired? I know, I know! We have moved to the metric system here in Canada but surely when I say I want an inch trimmed off my hair the hairdresser should be able to make a good guess at what an inch actually represents. I swear I can almost see the hairdresser's mind turning while she is doing the math - "1 inch equals roughly 2.2 centimeters. Or is that 1 pound equals 2.2 kilograms? Or 2.2 kilograms equals 1 pound? Does she want me to cut off 1 pound of hair? Or one kilogram of hair? Damn! I'll just cut a chunk off and pretend I know what I'm doing."



And what about that time my credit card was "compromised" at the mall so the credit card company cancelled it immediately upon hearing from the Police. Why that was really lucky for me that criminals stole my card number and that I couldn't go shopping until I had a new card issued. Wait! That was really lucky for Dan. I on the other hand suffered miserably for the 3 days it took for Canada Post to deliver a new card (and then promptly made up for it - hey! give me a break, it was Christmas time!)



I was also really lucky to marry a man that is so handy in so many ways - he can fix cars, furniture, electronics. He can build whole computers from spare parts lying in a box in our storage room. He can even sew! Why he has literally saved us thousands upon thousands of dollars by not having to purchase new items for our house - Boy! Am I lucky! I'm even luckier that so far his sewing prowess is basically limited to hemming pants and mending rips. I couldn't stand the thought of how lucky I would be if he started sewing clothes!



And I've also been really lucky in getting my wish to be the mother of girls instead of boys. I looked forward to playing Barbies and house, baking cookies - you know- girl stuff. Putting worms on hooks and pretending to be overjoyed at the thought of having rodents, amphibians and other creepy crawly creatures as pets just isn't my thing. Boys, from my limited experience, never, ever, ever sit still (unless of course they are trying to catch a rodent, amphibian or other creepy crawly creature.) Girls, on the other hand, are really good at sitting still and playing for hours. That is why every toy they own must be within arms reach, entirely covering the floor, never to be picked up until the threat of a super sized garbage bag is made. Boys like to run around yelling and hollering. Girls just sit still and emit high pitched screams. So, I am really lucky that I don't have to chase around a couple of hollering boys but instead have to tread gingerly trying to avoid serious foot damage from stepping on Barbie's stiletto heeled shoes or the antenna on her pink convertible while refereeing screaming matches. But you know, while all that running around after boys might be a good exercise program I think any benefits are outweighed by the ensuing stress of watching boys dangle from tree branches, popping wheelies on bikes or swinging "sword" sticks at the evil monster/ninja turtle/escaped lion/brother. I think stress lines age you faster than a few extra pounds. So in my round about thinking - I'm lucky to have a few extra pounds?????????



(and for those of you that think I have just propagated a gender stereotype...well, I guess I'm lucky I live in a country that allows free speech. Furthermore because this country also allows YOU the right to free speech I am even luckier that I subscribe to a blog that allows me to moderate comments.)